


Love, Selfish Love

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero
Genre: Bullying, Childhood Trauma, Chronic Illness, Desperation, Financial Issues, Gang Violence, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 117,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Valerie Yvonne Kobayashi, a little girl who dreamed of becoming a hero, and ended up turning into something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Love, Selfish Love" by Patrick Stump.

“Rippen, stop! It's just an innocent Swampie!”

Said Swampie screamed and struggled to wrench themselves free from the jaws of the wolf that held them captive. Being little less than three inches, they didn't make much progress.

Rippen threw his head back and laughed. “I can barely even see you for how tiny you are, and I care about these Swampies even less! Vicious?”

Vicious the wolf started closing her jaws tighter around the critter. They screamed even louder and frantically doubled their efforts, but it was all for nothing.

Rippen grinned and petted the wolf on her head. “Good girl—or shall I say, _evil_ girl!” He chuckled.

“No! Please, stop!”

Vicious stopped. The Swampie took a long, deep breath, then let out a massive scream that echoed in the wolf's skull:

“GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

“Hmm, yes, being trapped in a wolf's mouth is quite the sorry fate, isn't it?” Rippen grinned.

“I'll say! Do you realize how many germs are inside your mouth? Woo, there is _so_ many of them! When I first found out, I ran to the supermarket to go buy the best toothpaste and mouthwash they had! But I didn't know what they were, so I ran up to one of those nice store clerks and I said, 'I need something that'll kill!'” Larry chuckled. “Probably should have said that I was killing bacteria. That was a fun conversation with the police, I'll tell you...”

Rippen sighed and rolled his eyes. Vicious resisted the urge to do the same, mostly because of what Larry was outside of this job.

“Just let them go, Rippen!”

“Not until I have your precious Elder Swampie in my custody!”

“ _Never!”_

Rippen sighed. “Shame. Vicious? Do the honours.”

Vicious tossed the little Swampie up into the air. The tiny creature screamed itself hoarse, miniature arms and legs flailing uselessly until they landed in the wolf's throat.

The Swampie did not go down without a fight, nor did they take well to to being devoured whole. The wolf burped and groaned, already severely regretting her decision.

“ _No_ _oo_ _!”_

Rippen threw his head back and laughed once again. “See how much your little 'Swampies' can do?”

From several feet down below in the grass and the tall rocks, Penn gritted his teeth and thought of what to do.

Vicious frowned, but it was okay.

Heroes would always rise up to the challenge, and always, always save the day.

That's what Penn taught her, and that's what was going to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Vicious' stomach hurt. She vowed to never swallow anything anyone might want back ever again, especially if they were 3-inch tall creatures who had _lots_ of friends.

Though it made her tummy hurt even more, she forced herself up and crawled over to where Rippen was laying on the ground, tied up and helpless. She gnawed off the ropes holding his hands behind his back, and fell back down again with a groan.

“Excellent work, my dear girl.” Rippen said as he quickly untied his legs. “Next time, we'll win, and finally bring an end to this farce.”

“I'll say!” Larry said as he lay on the ground, still bound. “You've been getting better and better at this Part-Time Monster business; pretty soon you might even get a full-time position, and then never have to fight your parents on a daily basis ever again! That still really, really sucks, by the way!”

They zapped back to their respective Fish Stick on a Stick branches before she could reply.

She came back onto the MUT platform bent over and sick. Even as Valerie, her stomach still suffered the abuse of the Swallowed Swampie and the Swampie Rescue Squad—or maybe that was just the 'psychosomatic pain' side-effect of the MUT that the employee manual mentioned.

“There's a chemist just up the block, love.” Gladys said as she handed Valerie her paycheck. “And trust me, you've been earnin' more than enough to pay for a couple of tummy tamers.”

“Thanks.” Valerie mumbled, before lurching out the “restaurant” and to the bus stop.

She leaned against the pole for support. Her eyes turned further up the street and she saw the pharmacy Gladys mentioned.

She ignored it. Feeling the need to vacate the contents of her stomach was a familiar feeling. It wasn't like she didn't carry puke bags in her pockets, either.

And to top it all of, it was all probably just in her head.

All she needed to do was focus, and ignore it.

* * *

She made it back to her apartment without losing her lunch, which was good.

Getting back home took longer than usual so both her parents were home, which wasn't.

Sashi immediately stood up from the kitchen as soon as she caught of Valerie. “Holy nutballs, honey, are you okay?” She rushed over to her daughter and started pressing her palm to her forehead, checking her pulse, and other vital sign checks.

Horrible, horrible images and sensations flashed through Valerie's mind.

A squad of Swampies with mud lines over their cheeks, hauling two sharp sticks and a long coil of miniature rope between them, led by none other than her mother, Sashi.

A sharp rock getting launched into Valerie's throat.

Gasping for breath, before the Swampies loaded themselves onto the catapult and began their rescue mission, first and foremost with the sharpest stick of the bunch.

Valerie barely managed to keep her lunch from coming back up. She weakly waved her mother off, and stumbled back a step. “I'm fine, mommy; it's just… the fish and oil smell just kind of got to me today, is all.”

“Are you sure? We can go to the hospital any time, Val, you know that—and if you need to, we will call an ambulance!”

“I swear, I'm fine!” Valerie said, trying her best not to sound panicked.

“I'll be the judge of that.” Sashi put her hand to her daughter's chin. “C'mon, open wide!”

Valerie lost her lunch. All three of them cringed.

“I'll get the floor, you two go get yourselves cleaned up!” Penn said as he went into the kitchen in search of a mop.

Mother and daughter wordlessly headed to the bathroom.

* * *

Sashi stood beside her daughter as Valerie rinsed off in the sink. The puke stained shirt had already been removed and thrown into the hamper.

“Feeling better…?”

Val hummed softly. “Yeah… kind of.”

“If this happens to you again, I swear, I am marching into that Fish Stick on a Stick, and breaking them a new ventilation system with a sledgehammer, if I have to.”

Val felt what little was left of lunch trying to come back up, too.

“Oh, geeze, sorry, I didn't--”

“It's fine!” Val gasped. She recoiled at the smell of her own breath. “Just… mouthwash.”

Three gargles later and Val was limping back out of the bathroom. Sashi surged forward to help her up again before Val waved her off again.

“Mommy, please! I'm fine, you can stop helping now.”

Sashi flinched. “Okay. But do you need anything? A snack? Do you feel like you can keep anything down right now?”

Val shook her head. “No. I just… need a nap, that's all.”

“Do you need me to help you in?”

“Mommy...!”

Sashi frowned.

“I can do this on my own… I've got enough spoons, trust me.”

Sashi sucked in a breath, and sighed. “... Okay.”

Val shuffled out of the bathroom, Sashi closed the door behind her. The sound of the shower turning on followed soon after.

Penn walked over to his daughter. “Hey, sorry that your mother's being a little more overprotective than usual; we, uh, had a bad mission that reminded her too much of you.”

Val nodded. _'Believe me, I know...'_ She thought.

"Oh, and before I forget!" She took out her paycheck from her pocket and handed it over to her father with a smile.

She turned around and headed to her room before she could see the smile her parents always forced when they took her money.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author apologies for inaccuracies and insensitivity to those with actual chronic diseases.
> 
> Valerie is not meant to have any one chronic illness specifically, and can be safely said to suffer from "Plot Point Syndrome" which is a highly inaccurate, unscientific mishmash of numerous diseases and their treatments as befitting a story.
> 
> Original Article for "Spoon Theory": http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

“She's like an early Christmas present!” Penn said when his daughter was born on December 23.

Valerie Yvonne Kobayashi was tiny, frail, and severely underweight. Less than a minute after she entered the world, she was rushed to an incubator.

It would be the first of many times she needed a machine to help her. The sterile white walls, the buzz of fluorescent lamps, and the white gowns and green paper dresses would quickly become a familiar sight, too.

“What did we do wrong, Penn?” Sashi asked as she stood over her daughter, watching her struggle to breathe from inside a plastic tank.

Penn squeezed his wife's hand.

There were plenty of things they could have done wrong.

There was ignoring the signs—the cramps, the fatigue, the sudden mood swings. Sashi couldn't have been pregnant, the both of them used contraceptives, right?

There was delaying the pregnancy test, even after Sashi had most definitely missed her period and it had been two and a half weeks after the fact.

There was Sashi volunteering to grab the freaky alien crystal whose glowing probably wasn't from a colony of luminescent bacteria living under its surface. Or it was, but the bacteria wasn't exactly the safest thing to expose yourself to, either.

But Penn didn't say any of them.

“She's a Zero and a Kobayashi. She's going to make it. She's a fighter. She's a hero. It's in her blood.”

Sashi buried her face into her husband's chest and started sobbing again.

* * *

Valerie's condition improved in the past three days—still not normal or healthy by any standards, but at the very least, the nurses weren't compelled to check her every hour, a few popping in between just to make sure.

“If she keeps improving at her current rate or better, you may be able to take her home for New Year's Day, at our most ideal estimates.” Sashi's doctor said as they sat in their office.

Penn and Sashi turned to each other. Penn smiled. “See? What'd I tell ya?”

The doctor coughed. “Unfortunately, there is another matter that needs to be discussed. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...”

The smile disappeared. Both parents turned back to the doctor, their expressions grim.

The doctor sighed. They explained that alongside Valerie's weak immune system, she was born with a serious chronic disease, too.

Sashi choked.

Penn nodded carefully. “How serious are we talking?”

“Well, there's a rather simple way to describe it.” The doctor started collecting pens—lots of pens, from their drawers, their desk, even from the jars of free samples from drug companies. Eventually, they handed over a large handful of them over to Penn and Sashi.

“It's called Spoon Theory, but for now, we'll use these pens instead of spoons.”

Penn chuckled to himself. “Pen Theory, heh.” He mumbled under his breath.

Sashi remained serious, looking at the pens in her hand, then back to the doctor.

“Okay, walk me through your day, morning till night, either one of you.”

“I'll do it.” Penn said. “First thing I do in the morning is—obviously!--get out of bed.”

“That's one spoon.” The doctor said as they took away one of Penn's pens.

Penn blinked but didn't protest.

“Then what do you do?”

“Well, then I like to go to our bedroom window and stretch.”

“And how far is this window from your bed?”

“Right across the room—Sashi doesn't like it when the sun gets in her eyes while she's still sleeping; she's not exactly a morning person.”

“And how would you describe this stretching? Light? Moderate? Intense?”

“Moderate-light? There's a lot of kinks to get out in the morning.”

The doctor nodded and smiled. “That'll be two spoons. Possibly three or four, depending on the temperature, the weather, the conditions of your bedroom, what you did last night, and especially how many 'kinks' you find yourself 'getting out.' But for now, let's just keep it at two.”

They plucked two pens from their hands.

“Would your bedroom happen to be on an upper floor? And if so, how many stairs do you have to climb?”

“… We live in an apartment, all our rooms are on the same floor.”

“Good. Very good. So, after this, what do you do?”

“I go to the kitchen, make breakfast.”

“Describe it to me in more detail.”

“Bacon, eggs, maybe some toast? Simple stuff.”

“Are all the ingredients and pans already set up?”

Penn frowned. “… No. That'll cost me like, one spoon, right?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes. If the pan is something heavy like cast-iron, it'll be two. If you need to defrost the bacon on the counter, waiting for it will likely cost an additional spoon.”

Penn nodded, and watched as the pens quickly started disappearing.

They started to realize how serious it was when they ran out of spoons before they even got to the Odyssey for Part-Time Heroing.


	4. Chapter 4

It was getting harder to keep her eyes open. Laying her head on the couch and going to sleep was sounding more and more appealing as the seconds passed.

But Valerie couldn't just yet. Not when the others were so happy.

She was the Birthday Girl—or, as Uncle Boone called her, the “BirthMas Girl”--and they couldn't have the party without her.

If she went to sleep now, that meant the party would be over.

And everyone—mommy, daddy, Uncle Boone, Auntie Phyllis, and all her other relatives like her grandaddies and granmommies and even Uncle Boone's relatives—had gotten her all these presents, too.

She just couldn't stop now.

Especially since only mommy and daddy had given her their present—an Agent Flaming-O toy—a big one, complete with the gun, who even said “Flaming-O Yeah!” when you pulled the trigger.

There was a part of her that said all the songs, the watching the games, and the cake from earlier were enough. She didn't even know how many spoons those had taken, which the part said was good enough reason to say her birthday was over.

But Valerie knew better than that. If the presents weren't so important, then mommy wouldn't have such a fit over getting her one every year.

Uncle Boone stood in front of her, grinning and holding his own present behind his back.

“Guess what I got you, Valor!”

Valerie's smile twitched down at the edges. Thinking would take a spoon. And she wasn't sure how many she had left, but she knew that she had to use as few of them as possible until everyone had given their presents.

“A pair of your own flip-flops, little girl sized, so you don't have to wait for Mommy Sashi or Daddy Penn to tie your shoes up or take them off anymore!”

Valerie smiled as she saw the purple pair of tiny flip-flops, just as big as her shoes. The thought of the spoons and time she'd save everyone made her even happier.

“Come on, try them on!”

It was really more Uncle Boone slipping the flip-flops on her feet. But Valerie didn't tell him that.

It wasn't necessary, and what wasn't necessary didn't need to be done. It's what mommy told her.

Still, she kicked her legs a little. The flip-flops didn't slip off too easily, nor did they keep her feet trapped like her shoes.

Valerie looked up at Uncle Boone and smiled even more. “Thanks, Uncle Boone! These are perfect!”

Uncle Boone beamed. “I know! It's why flip-flops are my thang, Valor!”

Daddy grinned. “I gotta admit, these _are_ perfect! Why didn't we think of these before?” He turned to mommy.

“Yeah, thanks, Boone! These… really are a good idea!”

“You want to go test your new flip-flops out, Valor?”

Valerie shook her head. “Later, Uncle Boone! When everybody's given me their presents!”

She smiled, feeling ready to take on all the others now that she had Agent Flaming-O in her arms and her new flip-flops on her feet.

* * *

Valerie woke up in her bed.

She fell asleep on the couch as soon as she said thank you to whoever had given her her last present—she lost track somewhere, where remembering who was giving her what was taking one extra spoon too many.

Valerie's lips curled into a small frown. She wasn't entirely happy about how the present opening had gone, but at the very least, she had gotten it done till the end.

Then she realized Agent Flaming-O was sleeping beside her. She reached out and pulled the trigger on her gun.

“ _Flaming-O Yeah!”_

Valerie smiled. Then realized she hadn't made Agent Flaming-O say it at all during the party!

She frowned. The others were gone by now, probably, but at least mommy and daddy would still be home.

She turned over to her side, about to press the button on the Little Birdie—then she remembered Uncle Boone's flip-flops.

Valerie peered over the edge of her bed and smiled. Her new flip-flops were right beside her shoes.

It took a spoon to get out of bed, maybe a half-one when she tried to slip her feet in without Uncle Boone's help, but it was worth it.

She was out of bed. She was standing. She could walk around the house.

And she did it all without mommy or daddy's help! That's what was best of all.

She shuffled to her door, Agent Flaming-O tucked under her arm. It was closed, and the doorknob was much higher than she was tall, but it was a good thing the Slinky Snakes were there to help her.

The door opened.

She smiled.

“I'll make the money back, Penn! My daughter's getting a birthday party and a present, every year, exactly on the day, and that's final!”

The smile disappeared.

Valerie pulled the door open just enough for her to slip out. The light was on in the kitchen. She followed it.

“I know you will. I know you can. I'm just saying… maybe it would have been better if we just waited another week for our paychecks before we got her Agent Flaming-O.”

Valerie kept on shuffling. Her flip-flops didn't make a sound like her shoes did.

She didn't know why, but she clutched Agent-Flaming-O tighter.

“Oh come on, it's not like it was that big of a hit, anyway!”

She made it to just in the entrance to the kitchen. She could see her parents now, sitting on the kitchen table, the Books spread out between them along with the Calculator.

“I know. But well… you know what it's like. Who knows if we--”

“We're not getting kicked out, Penn.”

Kicked out.

Valerie had only ever heard it once, from the landlady when mommy was late on the rent after Valerie had to go back to the hospital again.

She'd asked mommy what it meant, and she said it was when they couldn't live in their home anymore—not even for a little while.

Valerie squeezed Agent Flaming-O with both arms. Her fingers accidentally pulled down on the trigger.

“ _Flaming-O Yeah!”_

Valerie's eyes widened.

Mommy and daddy jumped out of their seats and turned to her. Their eyes were wide open, too.

Mommy stared. Daddy's lips were moving, but there weren't any words coming out of his mouth.

Valerie squeezed Agent Flaming-O until her arms started to hurt.

“Are we getting kicked out…?”

Mommy and daddy winced.

“What? No, Val, we're not! Trust me, we're...”

Daddy looked over to mommy. Mommy sighed and nodded like she really didn't want to nod. Daddy turned back to Val.

“We're paid up for this month, and we've already getting enough saved up for next month, yeah.”

Valerie loosened her grip on Agent Flaming-O. Her fingers turned from white pale to just pale tan.

She smiled.

“Okay.”

Mommy and daddy relaxed.

“Did you buy Agent Flaming-O with the Rent Money?”

Now it was mommy and daddy's turn to turn white.

“Yes… yes we did—actually, it was all my idea, not daddy's." Mommy's voice got softer. "All mine, yep...”

Valerie nodded. “Okay. I can stop having birthdays, and you don't have to get me presents, if it means we don't get kicked out. I like living here everyday more than I do a party once a year.”

Valerie smiled. It wasn't a real one, but mommy and daddy always liked to see her smile.

Valerie turned around and shuffled back to her room. She heard mommy and daddy talking before she closed the door again.

“I can't believe I just ruined birthdays for her...”

“Hey, Sash, come on, you didn't mean it like that…”

“Doesn't matter, Penn. Doesn't matter...”

Agent Flaming-O slept on the dresser with the Little Birdie for the rest of the night.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning, Valerie pulled the trigger Agent Flaming-O's gun.

“ _Flaming-O Yeah!”_

She didn't know why it didn't make her smile.

She didn't know why it made her eyes start watering.

She didn't know why mommy or daddy couldn't do anything to make her stop crying.


	5. Inky Business

Valerie slipped back into the Rumour Mill without a sound, emerging from the shadows to the bright lights of the main office.

Rippen sat by the postal tubes, sorting through the Muck they'd gotten on the townsfolk, before picking up one to be put into a canister and sent off to terrorize another unfortunate citizen of the dimension.

He looked rather like a connoisseur of confectioneries, picking out the best chocolates of the batch to be put into a box, except there was _nothing_ sweet about what he was doing.

Larry sat at the typing machine, effortlessly working the octupus-like device, fingers clacking on the keys, pulling levers, and feeding more paper and ink to its tubes. The whole thing whistled, churned, and groaned, steadily putting out freshly printed pages of Muck on the output tray—about the only thing all three of them could understand.

Valerie sauntered over to Rippen. The smudges of ink she left on the floor were quickly reabsorbed back into her body. Bereft of a voice in this form, she formed one black tentacle and tapped her superior on the shoulder.

“Ah, my dear girl, you're back!” Rippen shoved one last piece of Muck into a canister before setting it on its way. He cleared the desk of the all the other papers, laid out fresh sheets, and rolled off to the side.

“Let's see what you've raked up from these 'fine upstanding citizens'...” Rippen grinned and rubbed his hands eagerly.

Valerie pressed her limb to the pages, leaving thick, large blots of ink on each sheet. The liquid separated and moved about all on their own, quickly turning into words and pictures.

“ _Motor Molly's wind-up cars actually require four cranks to start, not three.”_

A picture of a man with 12 items in the “10 Items or Less” lane.

“ _The Count Chocolatte's Choco Crave-a-lots are actually 99% pure chocolate, not 100%.”_

Rippen frowned as the rest of the pages were filled with similarly inane, minor, or outright unusable “Dirty Little Secrets.”

“That's it…?”

Without a neck or clearly defined head to nod, Valerie pressed her tentacle to the last free sheet.

“ _Yes, that's it. People only have so many skeletons in their closet.”_

Rippen sighed. “True, true, but I do suppose it won't take much to rile up these people after all the other bones we've unearthed.” He chuckled.

Valerie collected the papers in two newly formed limbs and slithered over to Larry.

“Ooh, more material for the Muck Machine! Thanks!” Larry said as he took the papers, his activity barely slowing down. The minion pulled a different series of levers and punched the buttons on one of who-knows-how-many consoles.

A tray somewhere else entirely on the machine popped open, and Larry dutifully fed the raw Muck into it.

The drawer slammed shut by itself, the machine burped like a freshly fed beast, and started whistling, groaning, and churning even louder than before.

Valerie slithered back to Rippen. Because of the tight confines of the office, they could both hear Larry talk as he worked.

“Hey girl, guess what I heard about you?” Larry chuckled. “I'll give you a hint: it starts with an 'A.' Still not clear? I'll give you another: it ends with an 'E.' Still stumped? Well, I'm stretching my genero-sity here, but the fourth to the last letter is 'B!'” He chuckled again, typing, pressing, and pulling up a storm.

The Muck Machine kept on dutifully churning out Larry's letters.

Valerie frowned—metaphorically speaking, she didn't have a mouth, either. She tapped Rippen on the shoulder again.

Rippen wordlessly laid out a fresh sheet.

“ _Does Principal Larry really need to be the one to write the Muck? I'm sure I can make them much faster—and possibly better.”_

Rippen sighed. “I'm afraid he doesn't make as good as spy as you, my dear, nor does he have the eyes to find his truly piercing and apocalyptic pieces amongst the merely cutting and inflammatory. Relatively speaking.”

He gestured to the door. “Off you go now, my dear girl; we can't let these people relax for even a second! You know the journalism business: it's all about the… err… something about news, whatever.” He grinned and went back to sorting the Muck to be sent out.

Valerie saluted him and slithered to a barrel of ink left in the corner. She dipped a tentacle into the vat, and quietly started sucking up its contents, her whole body growing larger and larger.

Soon she melded back into the shadows, slipped out of the abandoned Rumour Mill unnoticed, and returned to the streets.

Where there was the latest gossip and happenings amongst floating merrily in the air, now there was only silence.

Where the streetlamps were once burning bright, and the store signs and advertisements even brighter, now there was only darkness.

Where there was once people walking out in the streets and merrily going about their business, now there was only desolation.

They citizens had all locked themselves into their homes. Barred the windows, chained the doors shut, shoved their chairs into it, and weighted _those_ down with the kitchen sink for good measure. Some had even taken to hiding and cowering in their closets, underneath the floorboards, or beneath several layers of blankets.

It would all be for nothing.

She was amorphous, no doors, nor walls, nor objects could keep her out.

She was a shadow, no one would ever see her coming, no one would hear her approach, nor would one ever realize she was there.

She was a spy, unearthing the town's dirty little secrets, spreading paranoia and fear, orchestrating their doom.

She was the Inkling.

… And besides, it wasn't like she hadn't already done this before.


	6. Chapter 6

“Are you sure you don't want me to tape the trigger down? I'll make sure Agent Flaming-O _never_ says that phrase ever again!”

Valerie held Agent Flaming-O even tighter and pulled her away from mommy. “No! I want her to keep saying it! Watch!”

She pulled the trigger.

“ _Flaming-O Yeah!”_

Mommy froze with a weird look on her face and her hands held in front of her.

Valerie smiled. She didn't even tear up.

“See?”

Mommy relaxed, blinked, and nodded. “Yeah. So… you and Flaming-O made up?”

“Yep! It wasn't her fault she talked and scared all of us! She can't even do it if I don't pull the trigger! I should have called you on the Little Birdie, so it's all my fault!”

Mommy winced. “No, sweetie, it's not your fault at all.”

Valerie frowned, but didn't argue. Arguing cost a spoon, and she didn't think mommy would ever be convinced it really was Valerie's fault.

“Besides, what are all the other kids at school going to think if I have the talking Agent Flaming-O and she can't talk?”

Mommy cringed. “Right, yeah… school! You're going to elementary next year, aren't you...?”

“Mhmm!”

It was impossible for Valerie to forget, what with how many discussions mommy and daddy had about it, and the big, big numbers mommy put on the fringe counting down the days.

Why the numbers were in bright red would be a question she'd ask when she had a spoon to spare, maybe.

“It'd be pretty dumb, a talking toy that can't actually talk, yeah...” Mommy looked over to where daddy was washing dishes. “Penn…!”

Daddy put the dish he held into the sink and wiped his hands on his apron. He walked back to the table, pulled his chair closer to Valerie's, and sat down smiling.

“Gonna be a pretty cool conversation starter with your new classmates! Besides, you're going to go out and have adventures and fun times in your new school, meet new friends—kids your age, and in person, too!--and learn lots of new things! You excited?”

Valerie nodded. “Yes!”

“You really should be! Some of my best memories have come from school! Not to mention I met your mommy Sashi there.” He chuckled.

Valerie looked over to mommy. Her cheeks had turned red.

“Uh, yeah… I was the kid who…” Mommy trailed off and looked away. “Nevermind, it's not important. Your daddy came up to me and offered some of his Oreos, and we've been friends since.”

“I did it because of a dare from your Uncle Boone—I thought it was stupid at the time, but it turned out to be one of the best things that had ever happened to me!” Daddy sighed happily.

Mommy turned even redder and growled at daddy.

Valerie didn't understand why she did that. Daddy said it was just one of the ways mommy showed that she loved him, which didn't help things, while mommy just said she'd explain when Valerie was older.

“Do you think I'll meet friends like you, mommy, and Uncle Boone were?”

“Oh, no doubt! Trust me, Val, there's gonna be lots of kids from all sorts of places at school, and I guarantee you that at least two them are going to become your very best friends!”

“… Do you think they won't mind that I'm sick…?”

Mommy and daddy's smiles almost turned into frowns. Even then, Valerie could tell they were Not Smiles now—the kind you made when you didn't want people to know you didn't feel like smiling.

“Friends don't let things like those get between them, Val.”

“No. Not my friends, whoever they're going to be—I mean everyone else. The Not Sick kids.”

Mommy and daddy turned quiet.

“… Okay, Val, I'm not gonna lie to you: things are going to be rough. Probably very rough, because of your condition. But you're going to go out there, make friends, and have a good time, because--”

“I'm a Kobayashi and a Zero. I'm a fighter. I'm a hero. It's in my blood.”

Valerie smiled.

Mommy and daddy smiled—Real Smiled—again. Then Mommy sniffed and looked like she was about to cry again, like she usually did when Valerie said it.

Valerie absently kicked her legs under her seat. “I'm still worried I might run out of spoons before you guys can come back and help me, though.”

“Oh, don't worry about that, Val, your teachers are going to take over for us while you're in class!”

“And trust me, mommy's gonna make _sure_ of that.”

Valerie smiled even wider.

Her parents never lied. Heroes didn't do that.

* * *

“Remember, the first alarm is the medicine in the blue doggy, after lunch it's going to be the pink kitty, then when the bell rings and it's time go home, orange bear, got it?”

Valerie nodded. “I know, mommy. I double checked the alarms—all three of them.” She held up her wrist, where two different watches had been strapped on.

Mommy frowned. “That was a spoon, honey, you should have asked me.” She shook her head and pulled her daughter in for a hug, just slightly looser than “bone crushing, airways cut-off.”

“I love you, honey!”

“I love you too, mommy...!” Valerie gasped.

Mommy frantically let go, looking up and down.

Valerie sucked in a deep breath, and released it. “I'm fine.”

“Oh, geeze, that was a spoon, wasn't it?!”

Valerie frowned. “Yeah... it was worth it, though.” She smiled.

Mommy's eyes watered and lips started turning all shaky.

“You're going to be late for work, mommy.”

Mommy sniffed. “Yeah, I know, I should… probably get going, right? No, don't answer, I—have a good first day at school, honey.”

Mommy fled and tried her best not to cry. She failed.

Valerie would have watched till she made it to the bus stop, but the sun wasn't going to get lower, or the day any less hotter for her, and the teachers were already ushering everyone in.

Valerie looked down at her flip-flops as she walked. She hoped they were as lucky as Uncle Boone said they were. And if they weren't, she had Agent Flaming-O in her backpack.

She hadn't told mommy or daddy she'd done it. But then, not telling them wasn't exactly lying, so it was okay.


	7. Chapter 7

The teacher in Valerie's first class explained her sickness. It was simpler than what the doctors told her, and definitely shorter than the version they gave her parents.

Valerie stood in front of class the whole time, looking at her new classmates. She smiled, even though inside, she felt really nervous.

Daddy was right—there were a lot of kids, and all of them were quite different from her. Still, she figured she couldn't be that different!

Sure, she was much, much shorter and thinner than almost all of them.

Sure, her hair was what mommy's hair looked like when it was down, kind of but not as curly as daddy's, and it had those weird, sometimes glowing purple tips no one could explain.

Sure, her skin was different from most of them—kind of tanned, like mommy's—and her big blue eyes weren't the colour the other tan skinned kids had, either.

But she was still a kid, just like them!

“And once again, kids, she is not contagious! You can't catch what she has!” Her teacher said. “Now, who wants to sit next to Valerie?”

You could feel the whole class recoil.

“I don't!”

“Me either!”

_“Ew,_ gross, no!”

Valerie's smile quickly disappeared. She looked up to her teacher, but suddenly, the sunny, confident adult was starting to look a lot less so.

Eventually, Valerie ended with one of the seats in the center of the classroom's front row—the ones on one edge were too close to the windows and direct sunlight.

She was frowning as everyone around her started inching their chairs away.

But it was okay. No one even wanted to look at her, so it didn't really matter.

* * *

A teacher in a different class insisted she stand up and go the front of her class to introduce herself.

One spoon.

Another involved putting the chairs up into a circle. She was excused from actually moving the seats, the students unanimously agreed to make her walk as far from her corner to the last free chair as possible—the one that was also much farther away from the rest.

Another spoon. Possibly two, the looks some of other kids were giving her made her queasy.

She had to fall in line at the Cleaning Corner to wash her hands for lunch, and needed to have a teacher assist her. There were yet more stares from students who just wanted to get to lunch and be done with it, and didn't appreciate the delay at all.

A third, or a fourth. She was running out of spoons fast, and the day wasn't even half over.

Lunch time came.

Because many grades ate at the same cafeteria, the whole place was massive, dozens of tables spread out, and students filling up most of them. Valerie shuffled about on her flip-flops, trying to find a seat, but every table was either full, or she got a resounding “No.” from those sitting on it.

Word spread fast, or the school was very good about it's dedication to students with special needs, if only for the “awareness” part.

Valerie spent a spoon or two just trying to find a table. But it was fine, she managed to find one before lunch was over.

It would have been worse if the bell rang before she could eat—she was well aware that skipping meals was especially bad for her.

Her food let her recover some spoons, enough that she felt confident she could get through the rest of the day, if there wasn't a class that suddenly had her running around. (Which was probably not going to happen; she had a letter from her doctors and everything that excused her.)

Valerie put her lunchbox back into her bag and pulled out her pillbox. It was made of plastic, cheery, and colourful, the little sections shaped like animal faces.

She smiled. Even if what was inside wasn't fun at all, Val really liked her pillbox.

“Well lookie here!”

Then it disappeared from her hands. Valerie looked up and saw it in the hands of a much larger girl—someone she'd come to know very well: Tiana Harris.

Valerie's eyes widened. “Give it back! Please!”

Tia chuckled. “How about no? Didn't your parents ever tell you you're supposed to share what you got?” She started examining the pill box, flipping open the little containers, disappointment clear on their face when all that was inside was medicine—in unappealing whites, browns, and grays, too.

“You didn't ask! Give it back, please.”

Tia grunted. “Rude. You're lucky this thing is boring...”

She handed the pillbox back, Val clutched it for dear life. She opened her bag to put it back in where it would be safe.

“Well, what do we have _here?”_

Faster than Valerie could react, Tia pulled Agent Flaming-O out of her bag.

Valerie choked. She couldn't even scream as she watched Agent Flaming-O rise higher and higher into the air.

Tia laughed. “Want this back?” She teasingly jiggled the toy.

Valerie nodded frantically.

“Well go get it, then!”

Valerie started calculating spoons—leaving the lunch room, one; finding a teacher, two; explaining that why she needed Agent Flaming-O back, three; getting back to the cafeteria and finding Tia, four--

She got up off her seat. Tiana was much bigger than her, but for the moment, Valerie didn't care.

She jumped. Frail hands grabbed at empty air.

One spoon.

Tia laughed again. She lowered Agent Flaming-O. “I'll make it easier for you this time!”

Valerie jumped again. The toy flew back up just as her fingers brushed up on it.

Two.

“Psyche!” Tia grinned.

Valerie rammed herself into Tia.

Three.

“Give her back!” Valerie started pounding her fists on the bigger girl's chest.

Four, five, six.

Tia scowled. “Get off me!” She pushed Valerie off.

Seven—possibly nine, Valerie thought as her back hit the table, and everything started going fuzzy.

* * *

“HOW DOES THIS EVEN HAPPEN?!”

“Mrs. Kobayashi, please calm dow--”

_“I'll calm down when I have the head of whoever did this to my daughter, and Agent Flaming-O back in my Valerie's arms!”_

“Ms. Kobayashi, please, there's children present in the--”

Mommy growled. “Those 'children' almost killed my daughter.”

The principal gulped. “I'm sure Ms. Harris didn't intend--”

“What are you doing with her?”

“Mrs. Kobayashi, it is highly unethical to disclose the details of--”

"What. Are. You. Doing with her?"

“… I think you should please leave, Mrs. Kobayashi.”

Valerie heard mommy slam her palms on the desk, skid her chair back, and stomped out of the principal's. She winced as mommy also made sure to slam the door so hard you could hear the wood crack.

Mommy let out a muffled scream, before she collapsed on the chair beside Valerie, looking kind of like a balloon with all the air let out.

Valerie leaned her head onto mommy's stomach. Mommy smiled as she carefully started stroking her Valerie's curly copper hair.

“Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself.” Mommy mumbled. “There's always a way to win—you just have to look for it.”

It was advice Valerie would live by for the rest of her life. Though not in the way her mother intended her to.


	8. Chapter 8

Valerie looked up from her lunch and saw another larger girl that didn't look much different from Tiana.

She kept her eyes wide open as she awaited her second round of doom. She didn't even bother counting spoons, knowing that this would likely take all of them, just like yesterday.

“Hi. My name's Neala.” The bigger girl said softly. She laid her backpack down on the table, and started opening it.

Valerie kept staring, afraid to even blink and miss whatever it was Neala was going to pull out.

It was Agent Flaming-O.

She was dirty, a little bit roughed up, but she was in one piece, no part of her ripped or torn open.

Val blinked. She raised her arms, but didn't reach out to take her beloved toy back just yet.

“Sorry for my sister, Tia. She's well...” Neala sighed. “… She's her. I got my momma to clean up your toy best as she could. And she still talks, too! Watch!”

Neala pulled the trigger.

_“Flaming-O Yeah!”_

Valerie's lips turned up into a wibbly-wobbly smile.

Neala gently put Flaming-O down on the lunch table, and stepped back. She smiled.

Valerie lunged forward and hugged her as hard as she could. She was crying like a baby, but she didn't care.

Agent Flaming-O was back, and that's all that mattered.

Neala was still standing beside Valerie. Her smile turned into a little frown.

“They told us and pretty much the whole school 'bout your... condition. And I know a way to stop my sister, Tia, from bullying you ever again.”

Val sniffed, and wiped away the tears in her eyes A niggling voice in the back of her mind told her to stop listening, tell Neala thanks and that she didn't want to hear it.

A much larger part hushed it and sat at full attention.

“Go on…?”

Neala looked around. She saw Tiana sulking in a corner, storm clouds above her head, but she wasn't looking at her or Valerie.

Neala turned back to Valerie. “Does your phone have a camera?”

Valerie nodded.

“Good. You're going to need it. Does your poppa or your momma let you go to other people's houses, without them?”

Valerie shook her head. “But I'm going to make sure they do.”

“Okay. Good. I'll help you out as much as I can, but this plan, it's still going to cost a lot of spoons—but I swear, it'll be worth it! Can I sit down?”

Val nodded again.

Neala smiled, and cast another glance back at her sister. Tiana was still stewing, unaware of the treachery brewing.

Neala sat down and started talking.

* * *

 _“_ _No.”_

Valerie whined. “But mommy--!”

“Valerie, no. I don't care if this 'Neala' is Mother Teresa reborn, you are not going into the same house that girl _Tiana_ lives in!” Sashi spat out the name like it was venom. “Who knows what she might do if she gets you cornered and alone?” Her voice broke near the end.

Valerie glared. “Neala's not going to let me out of her sight. She's going to protect me. And she promised Tia's not going to try anything that can get her expelled—'she may be a bully but she isn't that dumb,' she said!”

From across kitchen table, Penn chuckled. “Must be quite the family, these Harrises.”

Sashi turned and glared at him. “It's not funny, Penn.”

Penn turned serious. “No, it's not. But Sashi, we can't keep babying Valerie forever. She's growing up. She's going to make friends. She's going to want to hang out in places outside of this house and we won't be able to watch her, or protect her.

“What we _can_ do is make sure that she makes friends with people that can.”

Sashi sucked in a deep breath. She started counting to ten, before she let it go.

“I'm going to meet these people and make sure they can keep that psycho they birthed under control.”

“ _Actually_ , Sashi… I think it's better if I take her there.”

The room suddenly got very, very cold.

“… Yeah... mommy, it might be a better idea if daddy meets Neala's parents first.”

Sashi looked like she was about to explode, but she didn't. Instead, she took another deep breath, and counted to ten once more.

“I'm only letting you two do this because my night job will fire me if I'm late again.”

Penn smiled, and wrapped his arms around his wife. “Thanks, Sash, I love ya.”

Valerie smiled. “I love you too, mommy.”

Sashi grumbled something too quiet to hear, but Valerie and Penn both knew it was “I love you guys too.”

* * *

Penn did a double take at the address he had, just to make sure he hadn't accidentally walked them both to the wrong building.

It wasn't.

“ _Wow_. This is quite the place.”

“Wow” was an understatement, Valerie thought. She didn't have the words for it yet, but many of them would have had four letters.

“Yeah, we live an apartment and own the building it's in. My poppa won it in a bet a long time ago.” was all Neala had said about her home.

She hadn't explained that her family owned one of the biggest, most luxurious apartment complexes in the city, in one of the most expensive strips of real estate.

The Harris' building was a survivor of Middleburg's earlier days; beautiful stone facades, intricately carved designs on the windows and columns, and giant boughs of ivy growing on the walls. Buildings like it—especially in such good condition as theirs was—were incredibly rare; most of them had been demolished during the skyscraper, industrial, and modern architecture crazes of decades past, to have entirely new apartment buildings erected in place, or to make way for warehouses and factories.

When the companies moved elsewhere and the people tired of the sleek, simplistic designs of modernist architecture, apartments like the Harris' had suddenly become prime real estate. The costs to rent one for even a month were gigantic, and well, well, _well_ beyond the Kobayashi's means.

And the moment they stepped in the door, it showed.

The Harris building hadn't maintained all of its interior features. Building code aside, bits and pieces of it had been gutted and reconfigured to make way for modern conveniences like an elevator for all five floors, wifi, and central air-conditioning.

The rest of it, however, was like stepping back in time to when the building was brand new, a majestic wood and gold hideaway for the rich and famous to retire from their busy lives managing their gigantic corporations or posing for the cameras.

Valerie found herself very reluctant to even step onto the hardwood floors, and Penn made extra sure to wipe his boots on the welcome mat.

Penn pulled out his phone again. “Okay, says here that the Harrises live on the ground floor, apartment number oooooohhhhh...”

Father and daughter paled as the door to apartment number 1 opened up, and somehow, the biggest, most intimidating, and most impressively built man they had ever seen stepped out dressed in a shirt, jeans, and teddy bear slippers.

He took up most of the hallway as he turned and faced the two Kobayashis. He towered well over them, the high ceiling of the building low relative to him. They could both see gigantic, rock hard muscles just underneath the cotton of his shirt, and his jeans didn't do his lower body any less justice.

“Hi.” His voice was deep, soft-spoken, but with a clear warning that it could easily turn less so in an instant. “You must be Mr. Kobayashi, and Valerie, my daughter Neala's friend. I'm Samson Harris.”

Mr. Harris extended a hand the size of a ham.

Penn stared at it for a few moments, until Valerie punched him in the ankle. His hand slowly came up and a few centimeters away from Mr. Harris' palm.

The much larger man easily enveloped Penn's hand in his own. The latter was _extremely_ aware that the former had more than enough strength to crush all of his bones without even trying.

Mr. Harris took his hand and back slowly shuffled backwards, a motion the two Kobayashis found like a dump truck driving in reverse, only a lot more terrifying. He gestured one of his tree trunk limbs to the open door.

“Please, come in. My daughters are having a heart-to-heart right now, but my wife's very eager to meet you two.”

They knew it was polite and friendly, but coming from Mr. Harris, it sounded very much like a threat.

Valerie and Penn looked at each other, and quickly walked in.


	9. Chapter 9

In the center of the Harris' living room was a giant, well worn couch; the fabric was old but well cared for, patches of varying ages covered many of its holes, and the center cushion had a depression—a very, very wide, very, very deep depression.

“It's what I've been using ever since I was a little kid, when I lived down in a project.” Mr. Harris explained.

In front of that was a flat screen television that was as large as most dinner tables, along with full surround sound speakers.

“That, however, we've only been using for a few months for the TV, about six months for the speakers. My wife and I are very big on getting the best picture quality and sound for our shows and movies.”

Humanoid figurines, tribal icons, pottery, and other types of ancient art littered their shelves and the tops of their tables. Their sources were as wide and various as the designs, some pieces having come from deep in south America, the jungles of Africa, or all the way down in Australia, to name some.

“All replicas, all to have been destroyed for excessive amounts, all cast offs in favour of more important pieces; my wife believes the real, more valuable, and significant pieces belong in a museum, or in the home of a more serious private collector.”

Also littering their shelves and counter-tops were figures from famous cartoons like Bugs Bunny, Goofy, Voltron fully formed or separate members, and many more from other shows of varying levels of popularity and obscurity.

“All original, all licensed, some limited edition; my wife is a serious private collector of western animation, and sometimes, Japanese.”

The walls were covered in pictures of ancient dig sites, religious sites, and tourist spots like the Valley of the Kings. A cheerful, rotund woman was in every shot, sometimes dressed like you would expect an expert out on the field to, sometimes more casually, always with a hand the size of a ham on her shoulder, from an arm just out frame.

“Getting myself and the subject in the same frame is difficult, to say the least.”

They were also filled with pictures of the same woman with a Mickey Mouse hat as she stood in front of Disneyworld, or other famous parks like Coney Island, the same hand on her shoulder in every shot, sometimes with two young girls in her arms. Alongside them were framed animation cells, and poster cards from animation and film studios.

“I'm afraid even Walt Disney's kind of magic has its limits. Those are also originals, by the way.”

Valerie clung to Penn's legs, and Penn just silently followed after Mr. Harris as he walked, nodding their heads as they stared at their decorations.

Mr. Harris eventually cast his head to a hallway, and frowned. He looked at his watch—aged and well-cared for silver, with similarly old leather strap—and sighed.

“Well, it would seem my daughters are certainly having quite the discussion right now. Would you two like to sit down?” He gestured to the other couches in their spacious living room, more modern than the centerpiece.

Penn nodded. “We'd love to, thank you.”

“After you. Please, take any seat except the center of the old couch—I'm afraid that one is mine.”

Father and daughter veered _well_ away from said seat, settling down on a massive leather couch. Penn sat down first and pulled Valerie up beside him. They sunk into the cushions, Valerie's short legs not even close to dangling off, and Penn's just reaching the floor.

Mr. Harris went to the old couch, positioned himself dead center, and slowly, carefully lowered himself into the depression. Once he was finally seated, the adjacent cushions were somewhere up to his upper stomach.

“So…!” Penn said. “This… a very nice house, you've got!”

Valerie quickly nodded in agreement.

Mr. Harris smiled. “Thank you very much. I'm very proud of it, though I will admit it was more luck that got me here than actual work. I actually won this building in a bet, and for that, I'm forever grateful.”

“Oh, really? What kind of bet?”

“His buddies bet he couldn't punch straight through a car hood, turned up!” The rotund woman from the photos cried as she stepped out of the kitchen. “I'm Anya Harris, hello!” She waved enthusiastically as she made her way to the living room and to her husband.

“Yes. My coworkers and friends were always fond of testing my strength in… unusual ways, to say the least.”

“They always knew my teddy bear here was the biggest, baddest, strongest boxer around, but you know them boys, they always gotta keep my man busy proving them all wrong!” Mrs. Harris laughed.

Mr. Harris winced, but still remained smiling. “Yes. I was a boxer, a small time prize fighter. These days, I'm retired, and mostly handle our finances and manage our building. But, I do some training at my old gym on the weekends.”

“And boy, does everyone want to be under his wing!” Mrs. Harris said as she leaned against the arm of the couch, back first. “Back when he was still fightin', they called my teddy bear Sammy the Sandman—once he gets his hands on you, you're out like a light! Woo!” Mrs. Harris threw her head back and cheered, falling back onto the couch and against her husband.

“And boy, did they _all_ feel that tomorrow, and the _weeks_ after that!”

Penn gulped. Valerie clung tightly to his arm and whimpered.

Mr. Harris frowned. “Sweetie pie. Please. That part of my life is done now. You of all people should know that.”

“Mhmm, that it is!” Mrs. Harris said as she happily draped herself around one of her husband's tree trunk limbs, nestling her head against his chest. “Samuel here decided that he couldn't be earnin' his cash by 'gettin' beat up'—though I assure you, that has _never_ happened to him—and start a family with me. So he left behind the boxing world, even though he could go Big Time, for a not-so-little gal named Anya.”

Mrs. Harris looked up and smiled at her husband. “But he still certainly looks the part, mm-mm-mmm!”

Mr. Harris blushed.

Mrs. Harris turned to the Kobayashis and beamed. “I ain't nothin' as exciting as my teddy bear, just your good old fashioned Anthropologist studying 'bout how we humans got to where we are today from where we were back then!”

The sight of a such a happy, “not-so-little gal” on the arm of a brick house and making him blush was enough to make Penn and Valerie relax and smile.

“Yeah, just your Average Joe here, working a lot of part-time jobs. My name's Penn Kobayashi, and this is my daughter, Va--”

_WHAM!_

_“Just stay away from that girl!_ She's trouble, I tell you! And no one can even pronounce her stupid name right!”

All four of them cringed, the Harrises most of all.

“ _Tia!_ Bunny! Take that back right this instant!” Mrs. Harris cried as she looked into the hallway leading into the bedrooms.

 _“I'm_ not the one who should be apologizing!” Tiania screamed before she shoved her sister Neala out of her room and slammed the door after her.

_WHAM!_

An awkward silence fell over the living room as Neala sighed, and quietly joined her parents on the old couch, on her father's free side.

She was frowning, but forced a smile as she looked up at Valerie and waved. “Hey Val, Mr. Kobayashi. Really sorry about that.”

“Yes, I am also _extremely_ sorry for my daughter Tiania's behaviour. There was an unfortunate incident a long time ago that spurned me on to teach them how to defend and stand up for themselves, and with Tia…” Mr. Harris closed his eyes and shook even sadly. “There have been some even more unfortunate side-effects.”

“I'm even more sorry than both of ya combined!” Mrs. Harris cried. “And I know y'all won't believe me when I say it, but for the record, my Tia Bunny really is a very nice, sweet girl, once you get past all the yelling, the showboating, and bullying.”

“Rest assured we've all been doing our very best to stop this bad behaviour, but progress is unfortunately slow.”

Penn nodded sympathetically.

Valerie and Neala shared a look that said it wasn't quite the case.

Penn's phone alarm started beeping. “Oh, man, where did the time go? Look, I'm really sorry to have to bail on you like this, but I'm going to be late for work. Thanks for having Valerie over, my wife Sashi will be back to pick her up around eight.”

Mr. Harris nodded. “It's perfectly fine, Mr. Kobayashi. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Y'all seem like very nice folks indeed! I'm happy my N'ala Bunny's friends with little Valerie over here.”

Penn smiled. “Yeah, I am, too.”

More formalities were dealt, Penn hugged Valerie goodbye and reminded her about her medicine, Mr. Harris excused himself to go speak to Tiania, while Mrs. Harris had to return to the kitchen because “Someone hit a jackpot of artefacts in the Philippines, so momma's gonna be catalogin' tonight!”

Eventually, Valerie and Neala were left alone in the living room.

“Hey, was what your parents said about Tiania true?” Valerie said.

Neala sighed. “Yeah. If they meant Tia _was_ very nice and sweet.”

Valerie hopped off the leather couch, and joined her friend on the old one. Neala helped her climb up, and Valerie gave her a clumsy hug, all while trying not to fall into the depression Mr. Harris made.

Neala closed her eyes and smiled. “Anyway, it's going to be an hour or so before we can enact the plan. Want to go watch some cartoons?” She gestured to the massive flat-screen.

Valerie let go and shrugged. “Sure, what've you got?”

Neala turned to the TV. “VeeVee, Cartoon Library!”

Valerie stared as the massive flat-screen came to life and she saw the most expansive collection of cartoons she'd ever seen in her entire life.

“Take your pick.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valerie and Neala use text speak, like many other kids, and are not as literate as their text messages are actually portrayed.
> 
> In the interest of not confusing the hell out of both the author and the readers, their messages are spelled out like you would normal, non-cryptic texts.

“It happens every single night, never fail: Tiana leaves her room, heads to the kitchen, and makes herself a snack.”

“She's away for at least fifteen minutes, and it takes her at least five to make whatever it is she wants. She always locks the door after her, obviously—but nothing else inside her room is locked.

“I double-checked during our... heart-to-heart earlier. Here, a copy of her key.” Neala pressed the item into Valerie's hand.

“Now move.”

Valerie didn't need to be told twice. She slipped away from the living room and to Tiana's room, her flip flops silent on the Harris' floor, too.

Neala opened the bathroom door, turned on the light, noisily closed it after her, and returned to the living room. All according to plan, the room was conveniently within view of both the kitchen and the hallway; and she had her phone beside her with a message ready to be sent to Valerie in case things went south.

Tiana kept on making herself a sandwich in the kitchen, ignorant of both.

Valerie slipped the key into the lock, looked to Neala for her signal, then opened the door as quietly as she could.

It was a disaster inside. A very, very, very pink, colourful, and cheerful disaster.

Just a few shots of the inside of her room and the rather revealing possessions Tiana had left outside was probably going to be enough but as Neala said, “Go for broke. Just flip open anything.”

Valerie did. Every drawer, every closet, every chest she opened was a gold mine. She couldn't take pictures fast enough, and was starting to get worried her phone didn't have enough memory to hold it all.

The best part of it was, she didn't need to put anything back into their place. The whole room was in such chaos she doubted Tiana would have noticed anything was different if a tornado literally came through it and rearranged everything.

The plan was going swimmingly.

“Tia? What are you doing out of the kitchen?”

“I'm going back to my room, duh! That girl's still here, isn't she?”

“Don't you always leave your door locked?”

“She'll find some way to get in, I swear it!”

Another argument broke out between the sisters. Valerie didn't care to listen as she holstered her phone somewhere safe and rushed out the door--

\--And caught a flash of Tiana as she decided to stomp into the hallway and scream her replies back at Neala, instead.

Valerie was lucky Tiana didn't see her quickly darting back into her room.

She was lucky Tiana's bed was close to the door, pressed up to the wall, and spacious enough underneath for her to dive under and worm her way deep within.

She was lucky Tiana wasn't against throwing clothes, old blankets, and large items under her bed, enough for Valerie to pull in front of her and completely hide her from view.

Then the door closed, the lock clicked, and Tiana set her food down at a little table with a clear view of the whole room.

Valerie's phone buzzed. She was extremely happy she and Neala both had the foresight to make sure it was on silent.

“ _On my way to get you out. I'll distract her, you sneak out.”_

Valerie peered out of cover. Tiana went over to her closet, pulled it open, and extracted one of her more noteworthy dresses.

“ _No. Not yet.”_

“ _What? Why?!”_

“ _I'll show you later. Save me before my parents come back.”_

“ _This isn't part of the plan.”_

Valerie didn't answer. She was too busy pulling out her camera—taking a video this time.

Tiana owned plushies. A lot of them. Very many of them, in very many styles, not just plain old teddy bears, though there were a lot of those. It was impossible not to notice them while Valerie was taking the photos, nor that every single one of them was worn, well-loved, and very well cared for.

And by the way Tiana was having a tea party with three of her favourite ones, dressed up in a little too small princess dress with a tiny tiara over her head, it was clear they weren't just toys to her.

They were friends. They were secret keepers. They were family.

Valerie had the sudden urge to erase all the photos. Stop recording. Delete the video.

Then she remembered that Tiana had taken Agent Flaming-O.

She knew how much Flaming-O meant to Valerie. She knew how much Valerie loved her.

And she knew just how much it would hurt if she took Flaming-O away from her.

The angle she had from under the bed was awful. But she didn't exactly need to have a clear shot of what was going down in Tiana's room.

This was one night Tiana would wish she hadn't griped to Mr. Fussypants about how no one believed her when she said the girl no one's name could pronounce was evil.

* * *

“You seem pretty happy today!” Penn said as he dropped Valerie off at school the next morning.

Valerie kept on smiling. “Yeah. I had a lot of fun at Neala's”

“Happy to hear it! Have a nice day at school, Val.” Penn gave her a hug goodbye, and left. He didn't have much time before he'd be late for one of his jobs.

As soon as Penn was out of sight, Tia came out of the shadows and storming up to Valerie.

She started screaming about how much trouble she'd gotten into for the cafeteria incident, had a lot of words about the gall she'd had for talking to Neala and “using” her to get into their home, and plenty of choice words about her parents.

Valerie didn't reply, even though the last ones really stung. Instead, she picked up her phone, and played the video.

The scowl on Tia's face quickly disappeared. All the anger was gone.

Now, there was only fear.

* * *

“Oh man. I can't believe you actually caught her having one of her tea parties.”

They spoke quietly, played the video without sound, and leaned over each other to hide Valerie's phone in their shadows.

Neala's face was a mix of impressed, shocked, and if you looked into her eyes, a hint sadness as she thought of days long past.

Valerie gripped her phone tightly. She wanted to grin, she wanted to scream and shout, and show the video whole school with the volume at full blast--

\--But that wasn't part of the plan.

Just a few seconds into the video, she closed it, and started deleting her phones pictures and videos. “There. It's all gone.” Valerie said as she slid the phone over and let Neala check herself.

Neala's fingers frantically swiped and looked in every nook and cranny of Valerie's phone for a full minute, before she sighed in relief and handed it back. Suddenly, she tensed.

“You didn't… you didn't make copies of it, did you?”

Valerie's eyes widened. She shook her head.

Neala released the breath she was holding. She smiled. “Thank you. You know, most kids, if they had that kind of dirt on their hands… they couldn't put it up on YouTube or Facebook fast enough.”

“That wasn't what I promised you. And besides, we only wanted Tiana from bullying me anymore.”

Neala nodded quickly. “Good... good, good! It's just… I know she's mean… she's mean to everyone now, but… she's still my sister.” She looked down and frowned.

Valerie reached out and touched Neala's arm. She smiled.

Neala looked up and smiled back. “Why didn't you put it up on YouTube or Facebook, anyway?”

“It's not something my daddy would do.”

Neala nodded. “Your daddy's a good man.”

He's more than that, Valerie wanted to say. He's a hero.


	11. Chapter 11

As an experiment, Valerie thumped on one of the apartment's boarded windows.

The man inside came screaming and rambling in incoherent rage. He started hitting the boards with his weapon—a rolled up, aged, and yellowed copy of the Daily Blabber. The newspaper quickly started tearing up into so much confetti.

“Come out! Come out, come out, Inkling! Let me give you what ya deserve!” He yelled as he kept on smacking fruitlessly at the boards and destroying his newspaper.

The lights inside started growing brighter, fueled by his panicked rambling. It wasn't as effective as conversation between two or more people, but it kept them on.

If Valerie could have sighed, she would have. She sank back into the shadows and looked for a different apartment—hopefully one with an occupant that wasn't so jumpy, and ideally, asleep.

* * *

In some ways, the townsfolk had made Valerie's job even easier.

There was no slinking about in the street corners in or in the sewers anymore.

There was no ducking into the safety of an alley when someone looked over their shoulder or someone rounded a corner.

There was no waiting for a car to pass at just the right moment before she darted under, hanging on for dear life.

Looking for targets, and getting around the city was easier and quicker than ever. But Valerie's mission had just gotten even harder.

The people were paranoid. They were suspicious. And worst of all, they were prepared.

Objects that could cast shadows had been pushed so close to the walls it was impossible to squeeze in, if they hadn't been surrounded with lamps and bare bulbs.

There was no taking advantage of the people “going about their business” anymore, Valerie rifling through drawers and containers while their owners were occupied elsewhere. People walked all around their rooms, eyes wary for any patches of black that moved. The few that hadn't isolated themselves stood back-to-back, covering for each others' blind spots.

They had also become incredibly tight-lipped. Where once, Valerie could overhear secrets being quietly mumbled—mostly, and ironically, the owners wishing no one would find out about them—now people were almost completely silent except for their breathing, taunting, and mumbling about where Valerie might be while they searched for her.

While their zipped lips were helping drain the power from their city, it was those same secrets that started the Great Silence in the first place. Without any new secrets, Rippen and Larry couldn't keep blackmailing the townsfolk, and if they couldn't keep blackmailing them, they would start talking again, and once they started talking again...

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

“Open up!”

Valerie's eyebrows would have risen if she had them. No one ventured out these days.

… Not unless they were her parents and her “uncle” Boone.

“I said open up!” Sashi cried as she pounded on the door again.

Silence.

She scowled and raised her leg.

Penn grabbed it and pushed it back down. “Woah, Sash, we're not gonna kick people's doors down!”

“Then how else are we supposed to find anything out in this town, huh?!” Sashi snarled. “Our mission is to stop whatever it is that's got these people so scared, but how can we do that if no one will tell us _what it is?!”_

Sashi raised her fist and was about to pound on the door once more.

Penn grabbed her hand just before it could hit the wood again. “Just on a limb here, but I've got this feeling breaking into their homes and grilling them won't change much.”

Sashi seethed, her fist still clenched, before she sighed, and turned away from the door. She hurried back down the concrete steps before sitting down on the curb, steaming and mumbling under her breath.

A thought bubble rose up over her head, detailing some pretty violent fates for the townsfolk, and citizens that looked suspiciously like Penn.

“Hey guys, you know where _I_ go when I want to find something out?” Boone said.

“I don't think they have the Internet or Google in this dimension, Boone.” Penn replied.

Boone's shoulders sank and he joined Sashi on the curb—a safe distance away, of course. “Well, I'm stumped.”

Valerie was about to leave when she noticed Penn looking at something in the distance.

“I am, too… but I think _do_ know some place we can go so we can change that.”

Valerie followed his eyes.

They were looking at one of the few public buildings in town that still kept their lights on, if only for the massive clock that was on its roof: the library.

* * *

“Yes, yes, _yes_ , going to find out, _going to find out,_ I _know_ the answer, I _know_ the answer, I know _everything!”_ The Librarian chuckled nervously as she wrote.

The circle of whiteboards she stood in was the only thing lit in the whole building. The rest of the library—shelves, arches, and carts and all—was in darkness. Not even the windows provided any light with the street lamps still dimmed.

The boards were pushed together, strings of theories and notes oftentimes spilling into the one next to them, if the Librarian wasn't already trying to squeeze her scribbles into the free space between her other writing.

The whole thing looked completely, absolutely incomprehensible, the ramblings of a mad woman. It was almost impossible to read anything, one sentence often bumping up into an equation, hopping on top of it, before swerving 180 degrees and getting written upside down to avoid spilling onto a table graph.

As the Inkling, however, Valerie could read it. And she did not like what she saw.

The Librarian didn't know everything, per se: she hadn't pinned down that Rippen and Larry were hiding in the Rumour Mill, that they had hijacked the Daily Blabber's delivery tubes, and that they were blackmailing the citizens with their Dirty Little Secrets—but she was getting close.

 _Too_ close.

It was a two-pronged job: one, Valerie needed to subtly change her notes—a number here, part of a street name there, a source below that. Two, she needed to slink around fast enough to avoid the Librarian catching sight of her—and with the woman looking over her shoulder at random moments to consult past notes, it was difficult, to say the least.

_WHAM!_

Valerie's tentacle shrank from the whiteboard, just in the midst of changing another letter. The ink ended up smudged, in stark contrast to the rest of the Librarian's neat handwriting, but it was too late to change it now.

She fled into the darkness just before the part-time heroes stepped into the library.

“I thought we agreed that we weren't going to kick people's doors down?” Penn said.

“This is the library.” Sashi smiled. “People don't live here.”

 _“Helllooo?_ Anybody in here?” Boone walked further in. “We _totally_ need to find out the answers to some questions we have!”

The Librarian's marker screeched on the whiteboard and left an ugly streak all over her precious notes. She flinched, but made no move to correct it. She turned around to the voices of the part-timers, forcing a smile on her face even as the whiteboards obscured her from view.

“Ah! People! It's been… it's been… why it's been two weeks and three days since I've had a visitor here! _Please_ , ask me your questions, and I'll answer them! I know _everything,_ after all!” She chuckled nervously, her tone of voice just a tad too high.

The part-time heroes shared wary looks. They slowly started stepping to the circle of whiteboards, occasionally peering into the darkness of the library around them.

Penn nodded uneasily. “Uh… okay… so, do you know what's got everyone in this city scared, hiding in their homes, and not telling hero—I mean, _concerned citizens_ like us what's going on?”

“You mean you don't know…?” The librarian whispered.

Penn frowned. “Yes… that's why I asked. Any reason I _should_ know?”

“Then that means--” The librarian spun around to the whiteboard Valerie had just tampered with.

You could pinpoint the exact moment she noticed the smudge.

“Umm… ma'am?” Penn carefully stepped up to the circle of whiteboards. “You said you could answer our question…?”

“How did that get there…?” The librarian whispered frantically.

“Uh, excuse me, ma'am…?” Penn smiled nervously.

The other lights in the library started to flicker on from the conversation.

Valerie started making her way to a window. It was too slow for her liking, but her body could only slither so fast.

The librarian spun around to her other whiteboards. Her eyes grew wide as she finally noticed the altered writing.

“That wasn't a 3. That was an 8. I know. I _know_. I _know_ that's what I wrote!”

Penn frowned and pressed up behind one of the whiteboards.

Sashi scowled and looked at the darkness. Her eyes passed Valerie just as the lights had just darkened once more. She quietly gestured for Boone to take the left side while she took the right—the side where Valerie was hiding.

“This isn't what I wrote! This isn't what I wrote! _This isn't what I wrote!”_ The librarian screamed.

“ _What_ isn't what you wrote?” Penn pulled one of the whiteboards aside, opening the circle to reveal the sweating, panicking librarian inside.

“This isn't what I wrote earlier!” The librarian pointed to one of the tampered equations. _“I know_ this isn't what I wrote! _I know_ that someone changed it!”

The lights had begun to buzz, faint, and dim, but powered. Most of the shadows that had kept Valerie safe disappeared. She had barely slunk into a crevice, a telltale smudge left behind for a few precious seconds.

“ _Who_ did?” Penn tried to make sense of the scribbles, failed, and gently grabbed the Librarian's shoulders. _“Who_ changed your notes?”

It was the wrong question to ask.

The librarian started slowly shaking her head. “I don't know… I don't know… I don't know...” She mumbled.

“Ma'am…?”

The lights buzzed as they came to life once more. Shadows and cover were getting smaller and smaller. Valerie forced herself behind a shelf.

It wasn't nearly dark enough to blend in. That Sashi hadn't walked close enough to look around the bend was the only thing keeping her hidden.

The librarian shook her head even harder. “I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!”

“Ma'am, please, calm down.”

Valerie slithered up to a nearby window. She'd just gotten a tentacle to the latch when Sashi found her.

“PENN! BOONE! OVER HERE!”

_CRASH!_

Valerie forced herself through the window. Glass shards and wooden splinters sank into her body as she fell down onto the ground below. She “looked” across at the vast expanse of street before her, columns of light spilling out from the windows and the fully lit library.

Sashi jumped out the window. She braced herself and rolled on the ground, ignoring the stray shards and wood cutting into her skin. She pushed herself up to a fighting stance, and spun around, her lips curled into a scowl.

Just a few feet away from her, Valerie spread herself as thinly as she could over the shadows underneath the window sills--just out of sight.

Sashi frowned. “What the…?”

“I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW! I DON'T KNOW!”

“Sashi! Get in here!”

Sashi growled before rushing back into the library's side entrance.

_WHAM!_

She kicked the door in and disappeared back inside.

Valerie fled from the scene, leaving bits of ink-stained glass and wood in her wake.


	12. Chapter 12

It was really too easy, Valerie realized.

Who slept when they knew the Inkling was out on the prowl? Who did so curled up in a bed and looked comfortable and relaxed, instead of passed out on their floor or unconscious in whatever position they were in beforehand, their face tense and scared? And why hadn't they slipped off their shoes?

And besides all that, that her latest victim was dreaming of nickels with diapers, being exchanged by babies in smart business suits, while they discussed nap times and the price of baby formula on the side really should have tipped her off.

But she made an amateur part-time monster's mistake: she let the instincts take over.

The Inkling—the real one, the one that lurked submissively underneath Valerie's own mind—always took a special pride, even a joy in dipping into and rifling through people's dreams. It lived for secrets and for knowledge, and in the weeks since its creation in the Rumour Mill, had developed a skill for “dreamspotting,” as it liked to call it.

Valerie saw no reason not to let it take over while it did its business. The way thoughts and dreams worked in this dimension were alien to her, and it made little sense not to let the local do their magic—especially since Valerie was only going to be sharing a body with it for four or five hours, at the most.

However, there was a brief moment that the Inkling had full control over its body once more, and Valerie was the one in the “backseat.”

It wasn't long—less than a minute, really—but during that time, Valerie “saw” nothing but the dreams and the thoughts the Inkling was happily digging into, dead to the rest of the real world around them.

It wasn't a problem. Valerie always made sure to thoroughly check her surroundings and plan against someone coming in to wake their sleeping beauty up—locking the doors, barricading the entrances, even just slipping makeshift earmuffs on their heads—and after that minute, the host and part-timer reached an agreement of half in the dream world, half in the real world.

That is, until the Inkling gotten a little too excited to finally find a new sleeping target after so long, and Valerie let it do its business without doing a thorough check of their surroundings.

They were still in the dream world when they got the blanket thrown over them. Valerie hadn't even realized they were trapped until the Inkling casually handed the reigns back to her and she realized that they were suddenly losing ink—and fast.

Just a single blanket wasn't enough to completely stop her. Valerie forced herself all around the fabric, soaking it completely before she started bleeding through the miniscule spaces in between the threads and to the other side.

She and the Inkling were both very aware that the escape had cost them a dear amount of ink.

Valerie reformed quickly, enough for her to see Penn about to close in with another blanket, Sashi throwing away the soaked one, and Boone waking up, the thought bubble above his head popping.

There no time to think about a plan—only to react.

Valerie lashed out, growing three long tentacles and blinding all three part-timers with a thick spray of ink. They cried out and started wiping and blinking the gunk from their eyes while Valerie slithered to the nearest window.

It was boarded up. But it wasn't a match for Valerie's strength as she slammed herself into it.

Crack!

The planks splintered and shattered, but still, they held. One of the part timers blindly threw a blanket, and while it hadn't captured her completely, it was still rapidly soaking up the ink from her body.

Valerie crashed into the boards again!

The planks exploded and broke away, Valerie fell out of the window, down four floors, and back onto the street with a splat. Pieces of her body—precious, precious ink—came flying off, but it was a piece of cake to sop it back up.

Escaping was a different matter entirely.

The part-timers couldn't jump out the window—this mission, there was no convenient hedge bush or pillow dump truck that had been left parked outside the building. They started yelling and running as they made their way out of the room and down the stairs.

The racket had not escaped the neighbour's notice. Though the lights buzzed in every single apartment, it was the first time the occupants peered out of their windows, opened their doors, and looked outside. Once they saw the other people as confused as them, the conversation was inevitable.

“What's going on?”

“What was that noise?”

“Do you know?”

“I'm so confused!”

“I am, too!”

“I am, three!”

The street lamps buzzed to life. The vast swath of darkness that Valerie could have used for cover disappeared.

_WHAM!_

Sashi kicked open the door, and jumped out to the street, bundles of fresh blankets, buckets of sponges, stacks of newspapers in her arms—anything that could soak up a liquid like ink.

“What are they doing with those?”

“I think they're trying to stop the Inkling!”

“Someone's trying to stop the Inkling?”

“That's what I said!”

“That's what I was going to say!”

“That's what I was thinking!”

The questions, the declarations, and the exclamations came out like a waterfall. The lights buzzed stronger and stronger, Penn and Boone were already running down the stairs, and Sashi was about to close in on Valerie with another blanket.

There was little chance she could escape without losing a lot of ink, or getting completely soaked up. She couldn't blind the part-timers again—she'd probably end up slapping one of the blankets or sponges and lose even more ink.

And the citizens… the citizens were cheering and chanting. These were a people ready for action.

The citizens. It was a desperation move, but she didn't have a choice.

Valerie spewed several gobs of ink out on the street, in clear view of everyone who dared to look. The largest of them formed into two sentences, a mirror match of each other:

STOP THEM OR I SPILL YOUR SECRETS

Valerie lied. She couldn't possibly remember all of their secrets, especially since she had committed almost all of them to paper, the images and the words no longer swirling inside of her.

The blanket fell over Valerie once more, soaking up more and more of her precious ink.

The cheering and the questions turned to screaming and panic.

“What the--”

Townspeople rushed out of their doors, wielding their rolled up newspapers and flashlights, frantically waving their arms about and trying to get the part timers to stop.

They didn't care about Valerie at all—their attention firmly on her parents and Boone.

Valerie oozed out of the blankets and slipped back into the sewers, before she could witness them get swarmed by the mob, and run out of town—or worse.

* * *

>   **Location:** The Daily Blabber
> 
> **Time:** About five minutes, maybe ten, give or take, from when you receive this message
> 
> **Details:** We're going to stop the Inkling.
> 
> _\- A Trio Concerned Citizens_

Rippen crushed the message in his hands. “Just as I feared: Penn Zero and his annoying friends are up to something.”

Valerie pressed a tentacle to a free piece of paper on the table.

_“They could just be bluffing.”_

“I'm afraid I don't know for sure, my dear girl, and I'd rather not take any risks this close to victory! We need to get to the Daily Blabber right this instant!”

“And it'd be just plain rude not to show up!” Larry added. “They sent us an invitation and all!” He started going on a story about another anecdote of his involving invitations.

Valerie would have frowned, if she had a mouth to do so. She'd lost a lot of ink, and regained little from what was left in the Rumour Mill's barrels; getting there was going to be difficult and time-consuming.

Too much for any of the three part-time villains' liking.

She needed a way to get their quickly. She was starting to think about having Larry ramble on to try and power one of the cars abandoned in the streets, when she saw the delivery tubes.

Those tubes had access to every single house, building, and major thoroughfare in the city, especially the heart of it all, the Daily Blabber.

Valerie raised an inky tentacle, tapped Rippen on the shoulder, and pointed to it. Rippen turned his head and quickly realized what she was thinking.

“Excellent idea, my dear girl!” He ran over to the postal tubes and started looking for the one that connected straight to the Daily Blabber. He flipped open the latch, bowed, and gestured to it like he was holding the door open for Valerie.

Valerie slithered to it, and held a much larger tentacle to the tube. She could already feel the vacuum suction pulling her towards it, but no drops of her body had yet to get sucked in just yet.

She hesitated. She'd never forced herself down a tube in any of her other forms, much more one that was pneumatic and attached to a series of many more tubes. Though she did remember that her father had told her about how he'd done something similar, going down a makeshift chimney while he was out saving Christmas as Santa Claus.

What did he say about it, again?

“It was one of the most horribly painful experiences in my entire life, and I never want to do it ever again.”

Oh. Right.

Valerie reasoned to herself that, lacking a spine, a nervous system, or really, any definite shape, it probably shouldn't hurt.

With a wordless “Allonsy!”, she threw herself into the tube, and waited for the suction to do the rest.


	13. Chapter 13

Valerie was right. It didn't hurt.

It was, however, _extremely_ unpleasant, to say the least.

Her body didn't get sucked into a neat, cylindrical shape like the canisters were. No, the pipes were far too narrow, the suction not strong enough to do that to something as large—and more importantly liquid—like Valerie.

Instead, she got sucked into the postal tube system in gobs, drops, and stray bits, all stretched out, warped, and occasionally getting stuck in the walls as her main mass passed them by.

She had a fleeting, disturbingly skewed view of the city and the underground system as she zoomed through the system, looking not unlike several balls of dough being pulled apart to make noodles. It was made worse by the fact that not every part of her followed the same tube when she went down an intersection.

It was like having an eye ripped out from your body, and sent hurtling down a completely different direction, forcing you to see two very different sights before it abruptly cut off when she lost control over that blob.

Then Valerie hit another intersection, and now it was _two_ eyes and _three_ different sights coming past her like a blur…

The Inkling “said” something to the effect of “This was a terrible idea.”

Valerie “said” something to the effect of “I know, but it's too late to back out now.”

Host and part-timer solemnly, sadly agreed, and hoped they would make it out the other end okay.

They did. Somewhat.

Designed to safely stop a speeding metal canister, and not a giant, sentient blob of ink, the cushion of air at the end of the “Incoming” tube at the Daily Blabber only helped get the system clogged up as Valerie made like a liquid in a container and filled in every last available space.

What other parts of her that had made it to the Daily Blabber joined her soon after, increasing the pressure on the closed lid, causing the whole tube to rattle ominously. Valerie struggled to form an appendage and push it open before--

**BOOM!**

_Splat!_

Valerie slowly slid down from the far wall and hit the floor with a wet plop. If she had a voice, she would have groaned, her vision still spinning from getting hurtled across the room. The parts of her bubbling up from the leftover air inside of her didn't help.

More blobs of ink arrived and spewed out of the destroyed postal tube. The lid was gone, the whole thing had been split wide open like a jagged flower in bloom.

And unfortunately for Valerie, the explosion hadn't escaped the part-time heroes' attention.

“It's the Inkling!” Sashi yelled as she skidded into view, old issues of the Daily Blabber in her arms.

Valerie reformed herself into a more stable, and compacted mass. She raised a tentacle and made a “Bring it!” gesture to her mother.

Sashi didn't need to be told twice. She lowered herself into a combat stance, grabbed a sheet off paper off the pile, and grinned.

“Round two.”

Sashi hitting Valerie with the papers, and throwing them on her. Though they weren't as effective as the blankets, the aging paper could still soak up a good deal of ink.

Ink Valerie couldn't spare. She blinded her mother with another whip across the eyes, leaving her wiping it off with one hand, and frantically throwing out newspapers with the other.

Instinct took over. The Inkling didn't want to die. And neither did Valerie.

Valerie stalked past Sashi, towards some nearby ink barrels just laying around. She got a good look of her surroundings as she rushed forward.

Penn and Boone were struggling to work the massive series of printing machines, the heart of the Daily Blabber. It was tough going, with the lights still dim from the lack of power, and the machinery just barely working.

The whole time they frantically jabbered and talked about anything and everything, trying to generate enough hubbub to get the place working again.

“So, how about those sugar-free gummy bears you bought?” Penn asked.

“Oh, man, they were delicious! But the aftermath, man. The aftermath. I should have read the reviews because those things are awesome going down but--”

“BOONE! TOO MUCH INFORMATION! Subject change, subject change!”

Valerie ignored what they were saying. She jumped into one of open the barrels, and started sucking up whatever ink was in there.

If she had eyes, they would have widened.

There was no ink.

“Gotcha!”

Valerie was in darkness once more as the lid slammed over the barrel. She was just about to pound on it when the whole world suddenly shifted to the side, and with a powerful kick, Valerie and the barrel went rolling and tumbling off.

Sashi smiled. Then, she saw exactly _where_ she had kicked Valerie off to.

“Uh oh. PENN!”

Valerie didn't know what the matter was until her barrel crashed through a pair of doors, slammed into something heavy, and the lid popped out. She drooled out to the floor and “looked” up.

Barrels. Hundreds of them. All labeled with the same name:

INK

There was no time to celebrate her good fortune. Valerie rose up, wrenched the lid off the nearest barrel, and dove in. She started absorbing the gallons of ink as a black tentacle reached for a nearby pillar of barrels and knocked it down.

Soon the Ink Storage room was in chaos, metal barrels clanging and smashing as Valerie wrenched them open and spilled their contents on the floor. The ground quickly turned black as she slithered over the mess, desperately knocking over more and more barrels, growing bigger and bigger as she absorbed the ink.

By the time she left the room, almost every single barrel had been destroyed or wrenched open. A giant flood of ink poured out of the doors and spilled out to the main floor, but they were little more than a nuisance compared to Valerie.

She hadn't sucked up all the ink. But she had absorbed enough—enough to grow to a giant, monstrous blob, several stories high.

Valerie stormed out of the room and loomed over the part-timers, higher than all the catwalks, the tip of her mass almost touching the ceiling.

The heroes all stared at her, stunned, their mouths agape.

Valerie raised a gigantic tentacle, and started smashing.

She didn't hurt any of them. Forced as she was to be loyal to Mr. Rippen and Principal Larry right now, they were still her parents and her “uncle.” Instead, she destroyed the catwalks, wrecked the machinery, and broke down the walls.

The whole town heard the anarchy. Those that hadn't answered the invite and pooled outside the Daily Blabber streamed out of their homes in droves, watching as the beloved landmark was quickly wrecked and turned to rubble and scrap metal, one swing at a time.

The power started to come back on in the streets as the people screamed and jabbered about the commotion. The machinery inside the building whirred back to life, but with most of them crushed and twisted, all they could do was spark and flail about uselessly.

Rippen and Larry forced themselves through the crowds and burst in through the doors, getting a front row seat of the destruction.

“That's it!” Rippen cheered. “Destroy them! Destroy them all! Victory is _mine!”_

And it would have been, if Valerie had bothered to pay attention to where she was swinging.

In hindsight, Valerie should have seen the trap coming.

She should have noticed when her parents stopped running about for their lives, and started moving in formation. She should have listened to what they were yelling to each other, even as the sounds of destruction drowned them out. She should have seen the fear on their faces replaced by determined grins.

And most of all, she should have seen that giant sign:

INK GOES HERE

Her tentacle went darting towards Penn, intending to grab him and throw him away from the mangled, dangerous death trap he was running in. Instead, he ducked out of the way, and the tentacle went right down the funnel of the Daily Blabber's main ink tanks.

She hadn't realized what was going on before Sashi flipped the machine on.

Getting sucked in didn't hurt. The sensation of having your entire body whipped about at high speed through a massive series of tubes, then fed through a bevy of rollers, stamped paper thin on so many miles of blank pages through the working machines, and left to fountain and spill out from the broken ones however…

It was one of the most traumatic experiences in Valerie's life, and she never wanted it to happen ever again.

Valerie had a warped, disturbingly stretched, view of the ruins of the Daily Blabber as she lay trapped inside the vat and printed into the first issue they'd made in weeks. The lights started to turn back on in the rest of the city as the citizens started cheering and celebrating her defeat.

She vaguely heard Rippen screaming “Noooo!” before she zapped out.


	14. Chapter 14

“Excellent work today, love!” Gladys said as Valerie floated back onto the MUT platform. “That was some great sneakin' and snoopin', and the way you dealt with those heroes? You, my dear, are an artist!

“It's a damn shame about the end, but oh well, we all make mistakes.”

“Thanks...” Valerie mumbled half-heartedly as she grabbed her head. Her mind was still adjusting to not being stretched out, printed onto paper, and seeing through many different “eyes.”

The leftover sensations weren't quite as bad as when she started out, but it was a rare day where she could just zap back and walk straight.

“You really sure you don't want to go full-time?” Gladys asked. “You've certainly got the skills for it—and we all know your unfortunate condition is no hamper.”

“Yeah, still gonna stay part-time, thanks.” Valerie said as she waved goodbye to Gladys and stepped out of the Fish Stick on a Stick.

If there was anything Valerie liked about her job, it was that while she was working, she was burning someone else's spoons.

* * *

Sashi was sitting at the kitchen table when Valerie got home, a calculator in hand, their bills and the Books spread out all over.

Almost everything had an online option these days, but there was just something about manually crunching the numbers that Sashi couldn't find in a computer.

Valerie slipped into the seat opposite her. Too busy moving things around and trying to figure out where to get what from where, Sashi never noticed her.

Valerie coughed, and her mother looked at her in an instant, a worried frown on her face.

“Just getting your attention, mommy.” Valerie smiled.

Sashi smiled back, before returning to her work and frowning. “So, how was work today?”

“It was… decent. Least I'm not throwing up like yesterday, right?”

Sashi tensed and scratched a small, messy notch on the page.

Valerie winced. “Sorry.”

“… It's fine.”

“So... how was your day?”

Now it was Sashi's turn to wince. “Not good. The mission wasn't as straightforward as they usually were, lots of running around and investigating, trying to find out what it is we were supposed to do than actually doing it.”

Valerie nodded. “Anything of note?”

“Well, your father let me in on a little secret of his involving one of our anniversaries and a coma...”

Valerie mentally crossed out that piece of blackmail from her list.

“… And I managed to screw up really badly, which is why I'm here doing the bills instead of your daddy, and he and Uncle Boone are out doing… guy things.”

Valerie nodded and held out her hands. “May I?”

Sashi tensed for a moment, before she picked up the income and savings book and handed it over to Valerie.

Valerie didn't need to be the Inkling to understand what was written on it. She looked up and with a questioning expression on her face.

“I deposited your paycheck into your account.”

Valerie blinked, frowned, and opened her mouth to speak.

Sashi narrowed her eyes. “Don't give me any lip. I don't want to think about what it is they're making you do there, especially since they're practically bribing you to keep on working for them. Do what you want with your money—you've earned it.

“Go, buy some new clothes, music, books, whatever it is you like! Be a teenager, for Pete's sake!” Sashi looked down at the mass of bills and journals before her, and frowned. “… Or just keep it there so you won't end up like us when you grow up.”

Valerie started to reach over the table. “Mommy…?”

Sashi looked up from the bills, her normally hard and confident look soft and defeated. “You don't need to do this, Valerie. Your father and I can find a way—we've done it before, we'll do it again, we'll keep doing it so long as we can.

“I know you hate working at the Fish Stick on a Stick—probably more than me, even! And I know you can't quit, because the alternative's… well, you know.”

Valerie shuddered at the mere thought of it.

“But you're only a teenager for so long! And I want you spending as much of that time as possible just… being a regular teenager. Hanging out with your friends, buying something you want without having to think about it much, dealing with teenager problems like after school clubs and sports, if that guy--”

“Girl.”

Sashi cringed. “Right, girl, sorry… that girl is going to ask you out on a date, or how are you going to watch that new movie or show everyone's talking about...

“Not adult problems like which bills are going to go unpaid for a while, how much are we supposed to pull out of the emergency savings, or saving up for the rent this month.”

Valerie looked down at the table. She suddenly felt sick and clutched her stomach.

“I know school isn't as simple for you as it was for me and your daddy. For one, there's practically two or so decades between us, I'd be worried if things didn't change. For another… there's you know, your--”

“Chronic illness? Disease? Unfortunate condition?” Valerie balled her fists, anger boiling up inside her. “Mommy, please, I've heard it all, I've heard it all a million times already, you don't need to step on eggshells when they're all already cracked.”

Valerie sucked in a deep breath. She unclenched her fists, stared up at the ceiling, and sighed.

“I'm sorry.”

Valerie looked back down, handed the income and savings book back, and slipped out of her seat. She headed to her room, her head down.

Sashi opened her mouth to speak, before closing it, and returning to the Books.

Valerie put her hand to the to her bedroom door's knob, turned in, then banged her shoulder against the wood. The door swung open and she shuffled in.

It never really closed right after the first time it needed to be forced open, but it still closed.

Valerie grabbed Agent Flaming-O off her perch on her night table, climbed into her bed, and curled up with her beloved toy in her arms. The plushie was worn, the colours had faded away, and the battery in its voice box had already died, but it still comforted her all the same.

She thought of the last time she'd dealt with teenager problems.

 _Normal_ teenager problems.

Knock-knock.

“Hi honey. It's me. Can I come in?”

Valerie grunted. “Fine.”

Sashi got in much the same way as Valerie did. She winced as soon as she heard the wood splinter and crack just a little bit more.

“Still can't convince you to get a new door?”

“No. It still closes. That's all I need from it."

Sashi hesitantly stepped in. “You mind if I sit down and talk to you for a while?”

Valerie grunted—a lot less hostile, more “I don't want to use actual words.”

Sashi took a deep breath, grabbed her daughter's desk chair, and sat herself beside her bed.

“I know you probably won't talk to me about your problems. I get that. You're a teenager, and I know you've been keeping secrets from me for a long, long, long time before that.”

Valerie nestled her face further into her chest to hide the harsh smile on her face.

“And I just want you to know: whatever it is that's bugging you, whatever it is you need to just tell someone… me and your father are always here to listen.

“I'm here, right now, and you can tell me anything you want.”

Sashi smiled.

“I'm not gonna say I have all the answers, or I can just magically wave a wand and solve all your problems. Besides, that's Boone's job.”

Valerie let out a little chuckle. Uncle Boone as a fairy godmother always got her.

Sashi looked down at the floor. “I know what it's like to live a double life. I know how it feels like to live a lie, to keep secrets from the people you love and trust the most, for whatever reasons you have. I know how much it really, really, really fu—IIII mean, freaking, freaking, I meant to say freaking!--sucks to have to do it.”

Sashi reached over and touched Valerie on her shoulder.

“You don't have to tell me right away. I'm not gonna demand answers from you, though I will warn you, certain keywords are going to make it really hard for me not to. You know what they are. Heck, you don't even have to tell me everything.

“But whatever it is, as soon as you're ready, we can sit down, and we can talk.”

Valerie sniffed, and held her tears back.

“… And I'm just putting this out here again, but if any of those secrets you're keeping happen to involve girl problems—like, I mean, you have a crush on someone, or you're flirting with someone, or you--” Sashi's grip tightened on Valerie's shoulder. “--have a secret girlfriend, or something… you can… you can…

“Yeah, you can just talk to your daddy about those. He's the one that knows how to deal with that. You know, flirting with girls, dating girls, being _attracted_ to girls… that's… that's… just… it's…”

Valerie turned her head up and smiled.

“Thanks, mommy. I love you.”

Sashi started tearing up, and gave a trembling smile. “I love you too, honey.” She leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, Valerie.”

“Night, mommy.”

Sashi got up and tried to leave before she started crying. She failed.

The door closed, and Valerie's smile disappeared. She looked down at Agent Flaming-O nestled in her arms, and sighed.

If only it were that easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sashi is not homophobic. She simply has no idea how to properly guide and offer her daughter advice, because even though they're both female, Sashi is straight, and Valerie is a lesbian.
> 
> Sashi realized she was going to have problems when Valerie started becoming romantically interested in boys and that problem just got replaced by a bigger one (to her) when Valerie came out. This'll probably be addressed in bigger detail in a later chapter.
> 
> I hope I've made it abundantly clear that Sashi is a parent that panics over every last decision and potential problem and have made this note redundant, but just to be clear.


	15. Cereal Chillers

The room was massive, but to her, it was tiny—too tiny, too tight, too barren. Heavy chains held her down, keeping her from moving more than a few meters—but an inch or two in her new body.

Valerie groaned. She was hungry. She was so very hungry…

It felt like there was a great big nothingness inside of her, a massive monster gnawing and eating away at her stomach, clawing, roaring, begging for food…

No.

Not food.

“ _CEREAL!”_

Up in the catwalks, Rippen and Larry  ~~~~recoiled in disgust.

“Ugh! What-what are you…?” Rippen asked.

Valerie groaned again. More than the hunger for cereal, she was suddenly overwhelmed with a strong desire for…

“ **MONSTER MUNCHIES!**

“Me Munch Monster! Me hungry for MONSTER MUNCHIES!

“Want Bubblegum Brain Bits! Want Marshmallow Ghosts! Want Werewolf Waffles!

“So many different kinds!

“So rich in Fiber, Essential Vitamins and Nutrients, and Calcium!

“AND SO TASTY! WANT MORE MONSTER MUNCHIES! _OM NOM NOM NOM!”_

Valerie thrashed about, devouring the words and the images in the air, spraying drool everywhere. The Munch Monster Masticate was even grosser now than it ever was on TV.

Larry screamed, jumped into Rippen's arms, and instinctively climbed up his head as befitting his  ~~~~o possum instincts. Rippen was too busy with putting as much distance between him and Valerie to even register the outrage.

“What kind of demented psychopath thought this'd be a good idea for a breakfast cereal?!”

Someone who thought like Tiana. According to Neala, Monster Munchies were her favourite cereal, and she had the nasty habit of doing the Munch Monster Masticate, too.

Valerie groaned a third time, louder than the others. “Cereal…!”

All three of them stared at each other.

“...”

“...”

“… Cereal…?”

“… Larry, the mission.”

Click. Still camped on top of Rippen's head, Larry explained as his glasses projected an extra large hologram for everyone's benefit.

“Okay, okay, Wrong Way Wally and Otis the Oppossum—that's me and Rippen!—have broken out of Marshmallow Dreams Maximum Security Prison after our old friend the Milkman was put into the Fridge. Ooh, at the _coldest_ , _deepest_ part in the very back, too, where you have to _really_ reach in if you want to get the freshest milk!

“Now we've broken into a different part of the jail, where they're keeping the Munch Monster—that's Valerie!—and now we're supposed to use her to as part of our plan to take over this dimension by threatening to have her eat ALL of the cereal!”

Valerie groaned and writhed in her chains at the mere mention of the word.

“ _Me hungry!”_

Rippen sighed. “Yes, yes, I think you made that point extremely clear, my dear girl.”

Valerie shook her head. Her bindings rattled and tossed about, but the metal held; the chains were too loose to pull taught and snap from the strain, and dangled just out of reach of her massive maw.

The Hunger was growing worse. Much worse. She needed to have cereal, **NOW** **!**

And she couldn't do that unless she was still in this prison.

Her coworkers seemed to come to much the same conclusion. Rippen leaned on the rail, deep in thought, and Larry adopted a thinking pose on top of Rippen's head.

“Welp. We're here, here's the Munch Monster… but how do we get Val out…?” Larry asked.

Valerie started thinking.

Maybe they could—CEREAL!

Could Rippen or Larry—cereal!

Maybe the way wasn't out of this prison, it was— _cereal..._

Agh, it was impossible to— **c** **ereal…!**

Valerie blinked. Cereal… _cereal…_ why just cereal…? What about…

She groaned. “Me… have… plan!”

Rippen's eyebrows rose. “Hmm… do tell, my dear girl.” He grinned his infamous Wrong Way Wally grin.

“Need… CEREAL!” Valerie thrashed about. “NO! Need… MILK… man...”

Valerie sighed—though it came out more as a disgusting burp. That the she could see it rise up into the air and turn into the shape of a grinning skull with two spoons for the crossbones didn't help.

Plots and schemes were so much easier back in the real world...


	16. Chapter 16

“Look out, it's the Plague Girl!”

“Run! Before she coughs on you and you get so sick you'll never be able to hold anything down except bran flakes!”

“Forget her disease, she's a witch! Don't look at her funny or she's going to cast a spell on you!”

“She's not a witch, dum-dum, they don't exist! She's a ninja though so don't let her get her hands on you—especially her pinkie!”

Some were meant as harsh jokes by bullies, some were said seriously by gullible students, some were just students following everyone else.

The things they all had in common, however, was that they were all perfectly willing to say it while Valerie was within earshot, and no one wanted to get within three feet of her.

Pretty much everyone had stopped trying to dismiss the rumours—Valerie, Neala, the school staff, the Harrises, and the Kobayashis, especially Sashi who was no longer allowed on campus without a security guard escorting her.

Dedicated as the school was to their anti-bullying and anti-discrimination initiatives, there was only so much you could do against the force of nature that was grade school students with easy access to social media.

Valerie didn't mind. It meant that few ever dared to _really_ bother her these days for all of the superstition around her.

It also meant that no one wanted to even speak to her, which made it almost impossible to make friends, but that was okay.

She already had one, and Neala was friend enough.

“Hey, Val morning!” Neala smiled as she walked up to Valerie. She held out her hand out low and Valerie met her up high. The two shook hands for a moment before Neala stepped in time with her friend.

Conversation quickly stopped or quieted down, and eyes turned away. While Neala wasn't a terror and a known bully like her sister, Tiana, no one was keen on earning the ire of the girl who'd one-hit KO'd a boy three grades and four years her senior.

“So, what's the sitch?” Valerie said as they walked down the almost silent hall.

Neala's smile disappeared.

Valerie noticed and stopped. She gave a look at her friend, wordlessly asking her to spill.

“I'll tell you all the details at lunch.” Neala mumbled. “Just be extra careful today, okay? And try to stick around me as much as possible—call me if you can't get a safe zone, and I'll come get you.”

Valerie nodded. “Okay.”

Neala relaxed, but only a little. The two reached the first crossroads in the main hall—the split between most of Valerie's grade's classrooms and Neala's grade's—and went their separate ways, offering each other looks and waves over their shoulder.

As soon as her back was turned, Valerie couldn't help but feel like she was being watched.

* * *

The rest of the day proceeded without incident. Kids within Valerie's grade were more reluctant to mess with her than the older kids, seeing as they were with her in the same classrooms for most of the day.

Valerie kept true to her word, and always moved within sight of teachers and faculty as much as possible (a “safe zone”), and called Neala if she couldn't.

There wasn't a bully in the school that was dumb enough to break the rules in plain sight, and the only exception was if it was something big and elaborate that they wanted the teachers to see, like the Great Custard Swamp incident a decade ago.

Every time Neala came along to fetch her, Valerie couldn't help but notice that it wasn't just a wave and small talk about their last class anymore before they walked off. Neala kept on looking around the area, looking for signs of something or someone, sometimes even doing a full sweep of the hall while Valerie waited within view of the her teachers.

Valerie resisted the urge to ask, trying to wait till lunch, but by their last class before it, the curiosity got to her.

“Neala, what's going on?”

Neala quickly looked into Valerie's classroom—empty, save for the teacher and their assistant—then back at the hall, half-filled.

“Something big.” Neala mumbled as she looked out. “Something bad. Something that involves you.”

Valerie frowned. “… Any hints to what it is?”

Neala turned back. “That's the problem—I don't know. I'll tell you what I _do_ know at lunch.” She cast another look back at the hallways. “Just keep on being careful, alright? If this isn't ominous foreshadowing, I don't know _what_ is.”

Neala escorted her to her next class, never letting her guard down for a moment, eying everyone and everything. Valerie shuffled beside her as quickly as she could in her flip-flops, keeping a more subtle eye out for danger.

Still, nothing happened. Valerie resisted the urge the strong urge to worry; her mother had taught her that worrying was only a waste of time, and didn't help anyone actually solve anything. More so, Valerie knew that a bad mood ate up a bigger amount of spoons more than a good one, and she had a feeling she'd need a large reserve of them.

As Neala's next class was clear on the other side of the school, Valerie had a teacher escort her to the lunchroom instead. If there was any advantage to her chronic illness, it was that when you said you weren't feeling good, no one doubted you for an instant.

The presence of school staff pretty much ensured she was untouchable, allowing Valerie to safely assess the situation at her table.

Neala was there, which wasn't unusual. She was somewhat out of breath and sweating, seeing as she had just run to the table, checked it thoroughly, and was busy glaring at the newcomer: another girl Valerie didn't recognize.

She wasn't much larger than Valerie, though it was clear from the bright eyes, and the contented smile on her face that she was just one of those people that were genetically predisposed to being short. Valerie supposed she was trying to pull off some sort of friendly, harmless appearance, but just looking at her put her on edge.

Kind of like if Valerie was a canary and the other girl was the cat looking at her through the open door of the cage.

Valerie thanked her teacher for escorting her and quickly took her usual seat beside Neala. She just noticed that the new girl was sitting directly across from her.

“Howdy.” She said. “The name's Rosa Sinclair Flores, for the benefit of Valerie over her—or would you prefer Yvonne, or Ms. Kobayashi?”

Valerie frowned uneasily. “Just Valerie, or Val's fine, thanks.”

She cast a quick glance at Neala. From the look on her face, it was easy to tell this was someone she didn't think too highly of.

“Understood! Y'all can just call me Sinclair.” She casually pointed at Valerie.

“Your life is in danger and I'm the only that can save you.”


	17. Chapter 17

Valerie blinked. “I'm sorry, _what?”_

Sinclair chuckled. “Truthfully speakin', the situation ain't exactly life or death, but it _is_ gon' be _extremely_ unpleasant for you, and I needed to get your attention. Neala here might say I used an 'Opening Hook.'”

Neala growled. “Just cut to the chase, Sinclair.”

Sinclair nodded, and turned serious. “I know y'all probably won't believe me when I say it, but I've been one of the biggest forces keeping you—that is to say, Valerie here—safe in this school. Though I assure you none of the bullies, vagrants, and punks here are under my _permanent_ employ, they're perfectly happy to take my money if there's somethin' I want them to do for a while…

“… Like, say, stay the Sam Hill away from you, until some time shortly before lunch ends today.

“If y'all are wonderin' why exactly I'd need to do this: you think that after ya tamed Tiana, no one's gon' want to mess with Valerie, you'd be right! Mostly. Why don't you enlighten our friend here about the situation, Neala?” Sinclair smiled.

Neala's eyes widened. She recovered quickly and shot Sinclair an even meaner glare.

Sinclair kept on smiling, unfazed.

Valerie turned to her friend and frowned. “About what, exactly?”

Neala sighed. “You remember what I told you, about my sister and her 'friends' mostly getting into trouble for fun?”

Valerie nodded.

Neala sucked in a breath and sighed. “I've heard rumours. Mostly just code speak, sometimes me eavesdropping on Tia and her buddies while they hang out. They keep talking about a Purple Pygmy Whale, a 'target' of theirs that's apparently worth a lot of 'points.'

“And before you ask, 'points' are this stupid, stupid, _stupid_ system the bullies use in this school where the riskier, the dumber, and the more illegal thing you do and get away with, the more popular and higher you are on their social ladder—especially if you can immortalize it on the internet and you don't get in too much trouble for it.”

Valerie recoiled. “Kids do that...?”

“Oh, there are most certainly adult versions of this stupidity, I assure you.” Sinclair added. “Some legal, some illegal, but all of them only get worse from here.”

Neala nodded sadly. “Yeah… anyway, maybe it's just me being paranoid, but I think 'Purple Pygmy Whale' isn't code for a location, a stunt, or an object… it's someone.” She paused. “And I only know a handful of people in this school who have purple on them, are small in some way, and of big interest to Tia and her friends.”

Valerie face fell in horror. “But that can't be—they'll probably get expelled if they try to pull something on me!”

Sinclair nodded gravely. “And I'm afraid that, sweetie, only makes you all the more appealin'. Y'all are kinda like a haunted house, not the fun kind: most everyone's happy to believe the stories and stay the Sam Hill away from you, but there's always gon' be someone of the right mix of stupid and darin' to want to venture in… and obviously, be remembered for it.”

Valerie fell silent. It all made sense. Horrible, horrible sense.

“I can help y'all stay safe.” Sinclair said. “Make sure you're practically untouchable, with or without your fine friend Neala here watchin' your back. But, in exchange, I'm gonna need y'all to work for me, provide me some things all my money, resources, and connections can't get me.”

Valerie thought about it for a few moments. She looked over to Neala.

Neala shook her head. “I don't think you should work for her, Val.”

“I'd like to add that y'all will be a part of this, too, Neala! Basically, payin' you to keep doin' what y'all are already doin', with my resources and employees to help ya out.”

Neala's expression remained unchanged.

Valerie turned back to Sinclair and shook her head. “Sorry, no deal. Something stinks about this, and I think it might be you.”

Sinclair chuckled. “Oh, yes, I'll be the first to admit I ain't the most squeaky clean person in the whole wide world...” She narrowed her eyes and turned serious. “But I am far, far, _far_ from the worst.”

Sinclair smiled and pulled out two identical cards from her pockets. “In case y'all change your minds,” she said as she got up. “My offer stands so long as y'all are in this school. So long, and y'all have a great day now!”

Sinclair waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowds.

Valerie turned around to look at Sinclair's smiling face one last time, before she shook her head and turned her attention to her backpack.

“Can you believe the things she was saying?” Valerie said as she pulled out her lunch.

Neala frowned. “Kind of. Call me crazy but I've got this feeling we shouldn't just dismiss her outright. Maybe what she's said isn't _entirely_ true… but it's always good to be prepared, right?”

Valerie looked at her friend and nodded. “True. But hey, even if I don't have this Sinclair chick protecting me, I've got you, right?” She smiled.

Neala smiled back, then frowned. “Not after lunch, though. You want me with you or are you going to go find another teacher?”

Valerie snorted. “Neala, please! My next class is like right outside the cafeteria, what could possibly happen to me in that little blind spot?”

Neala slowly nodded, and the two spent the rest of their lunch as normal.

Sometime after the departing lunch crowd thinned out, Valerie stepped out the cafeteria doors to her next class.

Then she found herself picked up and held up in the air by an unseen pair of arms.

“Guess whose time's up?”

* * *

All three of them were missing class. Valerie was the only one excused, but everything hurt too much for her to protest.

Neala sat beside Valerie's bed in the clinic while she gave Sinclair the evil eye.

Sinclair remained unfazed, standing as close to them as she could.

“To be perfectly clear, those neolithic dunderheads that dun' messed y'all up were not under my employ at the time. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is encourage _more_ violence.

“Your friend Neala here may have a problem with the way I do business—and I get it, everyone wants a selfless saviour who saves the day just cause—but keepin' the peace in the places good ol' proper authorities can't tame costs time, money, and resources.

“I well and truly want to stop the bullying, keep these students safe, really I do. Aside from the obvious, altruistic reasons, violence breeds chaos and fear, fear keeps money in people's pockets and their lips shut tight, and the last thing I need is someone who wants to literally muscle in on my business or want to ruin me and my operations just for kicks.

“Will ya reconsider my offer now?”

“I still don't think you should work for her...” Neala mumbled.

Valerie sighed. “I don't think I have a choice.”

“Was that a 'Yes'?” Sinclair asked.

Valerie grunted. “For me, at least.”

Neala frowned and shook her head. “Count me in, too.” She said flatly.

Sinclair smiled like a mischievous cat once more. “I'm very happy to hear that! If y'all will excuse me, I need to arrange for Valerie's protection here, and more importantly, get to class. Y'all might want to do the same, Neala.” She waved farewell, turned around, and left, leaving the two of them alone once more.

“You didn't have to do that, you know.” Valerie mumbled.

Neala laid a hand on hers. “I know. But I want to.”

The bell rang. Outside, students poured out of their classrooms and made their way to their lockers and their next classes.

“Get to class, N'ala; I'll be fine.” Valerie smiled weakly.

Neala tried to smile back, and failed. She squeezed Valerie's hand and left.

* * *

The next morning, Neala wasn't around to meet Valerie in the main hall, stuck as she was helping the teachers out to make up for missing class yesterday.

The “Plague Girl” bit started up anew, but Valerie was deader to them than she usually was. She warily looked out at the halls before her; now it felt like walking into a jungle with predators prowling under the cover of the din and the crowds, hiding behind corners and waiting for their opportunity to pounce.

“Hey.”

Valerie jumped, turned, then recoiled as she came face to face with one of her classmates Therese, a mean-looking girl with a perennial scowl on her face.

“Sinclair sent me to guard you.” She said flatly. “She also wants you at her office after school today. Don't bother asking for directions; I'm taking you and your friend Neala there blindfolded.”

Valerie nodded. “Should we head to class then…?”

Therese shrugged. “Up to you. I'm already paid.”

Valerie nodded and headed off to her first class for that day.

Even with Therese watching her back, she didn't feel very safe.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you sure we're in your office?” Neala said. “Because I think you're missing the giant mahogany desk, the fancy leather chair, and the scary bodyguards at either side of you.”

“Oh, believe me, sweetie, I'm workin' on that, but right now, my budget's dedicated to keepin' Valerie's pretty little behind safe and in the halls, and not in a trash can or a locker somewhere.” Sinclair said as she sat behind her desk, boosted up by a few hardbound encyclopedias.

Valerie silently took in the rest of Sinclair's office, idly swinging her legs under her chair.

It was tiny, a disused, forgotten storage room that had been repurposed by Sinclair, about the only things she knew for sure.

It was either somewhere deep into the recesses of Middleburg Elementary School's guts or Sinclair's goons were good at leading people around blind.

Most of the furniture was either old school equipment too old and damaged to care about, or brought in from the Middleburg Waste Management Facility (or, as it was more commonly known, “the dump”).

And  Sinclair was either keen on maintaining that “shady business” atmosphere, or the whole thing  really was  this shabby and dimly lit.

“Now, y'all probably figured out that I didn't just choose you two personally without good reason, but in case that hasn't been clear: I need y'all for a variety of extremely specialized jobs I can't just give anyone.” Sinclair said as Valerie looked around.

“Delegation, my friends! It is the foundation of our dear society, and it is what _really_ gets things done anywhere. Unfortunately, with delegation also comes the problem of finding someone that can _actually_ do the job—and more importantly, do it right.

“Now, I will say there are a lot of openings in my operations, and more helping hands are always appreciated, but the jobs I have for you two are the kind y'all can't tell anyone if ya want to keep 'em, ya catch my drift.”

Neala's frown grew deeper. Valerie kept on listening intently, her expression neutral.

Sinclair pointed to Valerie. “You, Valerie, I need to spy for me. Ya see, I got eyes and ears all over the place, but they can only do so much and reach so far. Eventually people notice that someone is loiterin' too close by, or that that there table ain't mindin' their own business. And even then, these folks will only risk so much—they've got reputations and friends, after all.

“No offense to you, Val, but you're out of the radar. Y'all are tiny. Folks ignore ya or don't even notice you in the first place. Y'all have got no reputation to maintain, too, since what other people think of you is entirely out of your hands.”

Sinclair smiled. “And I can use that.”

“Specifically, you need me as your fly on the wall for all the talk and events you can't sneak your normal spies into.” Valerie finished.

Sinclair grinned. “Got it in one, Val; I knew y'all were sharp. Now, mind you, my reach is _very_ extensive; I run an intricate network of information, operations, and favours that spans pretty much this entire school and parts of the city 'round our dear _alma mater_ , but there's still a handful of unreachable or well-guarded places, all worth a quarter to half of what I already have.

“That's a lot of value, and more importantly, they're _unknown_ values.” Sinclair scowled. “And if there's anything I hate, it's unknown values.

“Given your, ahem, condition, I won't send ya out often, and will do my best to make things easy for you on or off duty—happy cows give better milk, know what I'm sayin'?” Sinclair chuckled, then turned serious once more. “But, in return, I want you to make it worth my while.

“And to do just that, with the work times, schedules, and benefits I've got planned for y'all, you'll have to be doin' some risky, _risky_ things.”

Valerie nodded.

Neala frown grew as deep as it could go. “Sorry for intruding, but where exactly do I fit into this?” She asked.

Sinclair shot her a patient smile. “I was just about to get to that: you, Neala, are going to be helpin' Val over here. It's one thing to get a fly on the wall, it's another thing altogether to get them back undetected, or all things go downhill, mostly to completely unmolested. You'll be in charge of escortin', distractin', sometimes makin' a li'l crack so Val can worm her way in or out.

“I'll also pay ya to keep Val here safe outside of duty—basically, what y'all are already doin', with the added benefit of my resources, my connections, and my people, especially when y'all are unavailable such as this mornin'.”

Neala hummed. “And you're sure you can keep her safe?”

Sinclair nodded. “Yes, plus make sure the both of you are generously rewarded, too. Provided you two earn it, of course.”

Valerie and Neala shared uneasy looks.

Sinclair smiled. “I can see y'all are worried about the potential distastefulness of your jobs. I can assure you that, unlike Tiana, bless her heart, blackmail, vengeance, or just plain violence are the last things I want to do—partly because they always, always, _always_ settles wrong in my tummy.

“What I _will_ use it for, however, is for everyone's benefit—admittedly though, mostly myself. Knowing what the other guy is selling at what price and where so y'all can compete or avoid them altogether; or what territories they'll be movin' in on so ya'll can get out of dodge; or figurin' out where exactly they're sourcin' a service for so cheap…” Sinclair grinned. “Well, the profits from those beat out the ransoms and damage ya could do with that same information _any_ day of the week.

“It even comes with the benefit of less bad feelin's, easier execution, and even them not bein' aware of how you got the info in the first place, if ya do it right. Provided there's conflict, I tend to fall back on an old sayin' one of my ancestors had back when the West was still bein' won:

“In case of trouble, reason with 'em. If ya can't reason with 'em, deal with 'em. And If you can't deal with 'em--” Sinclair's glare turned icy. “Shoot 'em.”

Valerie blinked and stopped kicking her legs. Neala scowled and balled her fists.

Sinclair's made that cat-like smile once more. “Now, before y'all panic, I don't follow it to the letter: murder's a complicated and expensive thing to do, and it just ain't worth it.”

Beat.

“I'm joking.” Sinclair said flatly. “Seriously, the first time I heard a gun fire in real life, I hit the deck so fast the air had skid marks.”

Valerie chuckled. Neala wasn't so amused, but relaxed.

“What I am serious about, though, is that when push comes to shove, I make it a point make sure they don't want to do it a second time—preferably for _good_. Not usually in violent means, mind, though the things I can dish out tend to be worse than if I just had ya beat up.

“Sometimes, humiliation works _so_ much better.

“So, enough talkin' business and 'bout myself: do I still have y'all in this wagon?”

Valerie nodded. “Provided you can keep me safe like you said you will, yes.”

“Ditto.” Neala said, her eyes narrowed.

Sinclair laughed. “Oh, trust me, I always make good on my promises. If I can't, I don't make 'em in the first place, or warn ya thoroughly beforehand.”

She produced two cards from her drawer, different from the ones yesterday. “This here's my address. I'd like y'all to be there Saturday afternoon, so we can discuss the nitty gritty of our new arrangements all private like, alongside providin' y'all with the tools you're gonna need.”

Valerie studied the card. “Time to go convince my parents again, I guess...”

* * *

“No.” Sashi said.

Valerie didn't even bother protesting this time. She knew the reason: both her parents were busy Saturday afternoon with their other jobs and the regular bout of part-time heroing.

“… Unless we get someone else to take you there.” Penn added.

Valerie looked quizzically at her father.

“And who exactly is that?” Sashi asked. “Because you know I don't trust Boone alone with Valerie, Phyllis never leaves the Odyssey, and both our parents have big plans on Saturdays.”

“I was thinking we could get Sammy to come with them. I mean, Neala's already going, and he even has a car—it's a win-win for everyone, the way I see it!”

Sashi scowled. “Penn, our daughters have only known each other for less than a month, and you and Sam have only hung out for like what, two, three times? How can you just trust them enough with Valerie while they're in a total stranger's house?”

“I just have this feeling about them, okay? The kind of feeling I got with Boone, the kind of feeling I got with you. I can't explain why, but I just know that if there's anyone that can keep Valerie safe, it's those two.”

Sashi shook her head. “Fine. But if this 'Sinclair' turns out be the daughter of a family of axe murderers, you're joining the body count.”

Penn nodded and stood up from the kitchen table, a smile on his face. “I'll go call him right now!” He left to do so.

Sashi watched him go for a moment before turning to Valerie. She reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Valerie, honey: can you promise me something?” She said softly.

Valerie nodded, her eyes one her mother.

“If there's anything—absolutely anything you really don't like about this Sinclair girl, or something about her just makes you too uncomfortable—promise me you'll stop being friends with her?”

Valerie faked a smile. “Of course, mommy.”

Sashi smiled. “Good. I could go find out every single detail about her life like a crazy, overprotective parent, but I won't.” She got up from her chair, walked over to Valerie's, and gave her a hug.

“You do know it's pretty acceptable these days to spy on your kids and their friends on Facebook, right?” Valerie said as she leaned into the embrace.

“I know, but almost every post there makes me die a little inside.”


	19. Chapter 19

Sinclair lived in a mansion, the property spanning a good third of their block, and her family needed every square inch of it.

Sure, it had high walls, gates, and security cameras and guards everywhere, but that was about where the exclusivity and privacy ended.

People filled almost every square foot of the place, most free space made for moving around, or to make way for a demonstration, or to have yet another chair or table brought out from the house's storage room.

They were dressed in all manner of styles, some of them in smart suits, others in everyday wear, some lounging about in undershirts and shorts. They talked, they ate, they drank, they bet, they played games, they watched movies—the whole place was a giant hive of noisy, lively activity, with uniformed employees helping keep things run smoothly and effortlessly.

“Are you related to _all_ of these people?!” Neala yelled over the din.

“Nope!” Sinclair replied, just as loud. “They're a mix of friends, business associates, visitors, employees, house staff—you'll know who actually lives here when ya see them, though!”

The Flores family and their numerous relatives tended towards three different types of South: “South” as in Tennessee, Virginia, or New Orleans, USA; “South” as in Mexico, Cuba, or Brazil; or “South” as in Singapore, Thailand, or the Philippines.

Occasionally, some of them would come from nearby or related countries like Australia, Spain, or China.

In spite of their varied origins, appearances, and styles of English, however, there was one thing they all shared in common:

“Have y'all ever thought of sellin' these _de-_ licious delights of yours? I'm actually personally responsible for a big old cottage industry, just makin' and marketin' _divine_ treats like these...”

“I can get you a pretty good deal on a screen like this, actually! I know someone who's selling some brand new flat-screen TVs, all kinds of sizes, some second hand, but _all_ of them cheaper than what you'd get if you went to the store...”

“Mind you, not exactly cutting edge, these. But, they work just as good as new models. Cheaper, easier to get, too.”

They weren't just businesspeople in their job titles. They lived and breathed commerce, negotiations, and networking.

Not a single one of them batted an eyelash or reacted strangely to the seven-foot tall brick house with legs escorting his daughter and her two friends through the chaos and into the house. There were only polite hellos, good natured ribbing and jokes at Sinclair's expense, and a few attempts at advertising or selling.

Valerie just kept her hands over her ears the entire time, trying to make her pounding headache a little less painful.

* * *

The Flores clan had paintings on the walls, but most of them were family portraits or depictions of the clan's celebrations, momentous occasions, and even just everyday life than masterworks or pieces from art galleries.

They were interspersed with lovingly preserved photographs, with some of them dating back to the Wild West and even further back, along with full colour digital pictures from more recent years, and the occasional attempt at a picturesque scene or a serious work gone extremely, hilariously awry.

They had antiques on display, treasures from their various home cultures, pieces that wouldn't look out of place in a museum. But there were also more sentimental keepsakes: sloppily done and messily painted mugs and vases from amateur arts and crafts attempts, faded and almost unreadable letters, and even exploded fireworks rockets.

Almost all of them had plaques and explanations.

Valerie read some of them as they made their way through the halls and up the stairs, if only to focus on something and drown out the perennial noise of activity.

An old photograph of a cheerful man bearing a striking resemblance to Sinclair in his smile, standing on a hillside with a cart full of equipment and a horse.

_“Augustus Jules Browning, joining the Great American Gold Rush with 3 tons of TNT, 20 dollars, and an unlimited supply of will.”_

Beside that, a scrap of badly burnt cloth in a glass case.

_“A scrap of Augustus Jules Browning's hat, the only thing recovered of him after the infamous first mining detonation on his claim.”_

And beside it: a picture of a prosperous town, with a somber looking woman and children that had a strong resemblance to the late Browning in the center of it all.

_“Browning Town, the prosperous settlement established and fueled by the astoundingly large deposits of gold unearthed in the aftermath of the infamous first mining detonation on the Browning claim.”_

Some time after that, a picture of a man in a fishing boat, about to shove off and having a large amount of trouble doing so, judging by the way he was bent over and scowling.

_“Johnathan David Chang, about to set off on his first day of work for Fontaine Fisheries.”_

Some time after a series of different photographs picturing and newspaper clips detailing his numerous misadventures involving stubborn crabs, fish that caught _him_ , and his attempts to fix his boat on an almost non-existent budget, the same man, now smiling and standing in front of a large building as the sign was being replaced.

_“Johnathan David Chang, witnessing the arrival of the sign of his new business, Chang Crabs and Craws.”_

They went up the stairs and in the hallways was a picture of a beautifully dressed woman standing beside a man in a suit, her smile more forced than that of her companion. The two stood in front of a large mansion, the kind you usually saw on plantations back in the years of slavery in America.

_“David Maximilian 'Max' Gold, with his wife, Marie Antonia Gold, nee Browning, commemorating their first day in their new home.”_

Right beside that, the same woman looking much, _much_ happier, with several people in simpler, humbler attire beside here also looking rather pleased.

_“Marie Antonia Gold, rebuilding her late husband David Maximillian 'Max' Gold's estate and business, after his untimely death in a farming accident.”_

They made their way past the massive foyer, and up the stairs. Their surroundings steadily got more private, intimate, and quieter the higher up and deeper into the mansion they went, until they finally reached halls filled with doors that had names on them.

The were done in a variety of styles: some were plastic blocks stuck to the frame, others had more formal plaques, a few had aging pieces of paper secured and protected by scotch tape of varying ages, frequently layered on top of each other with the newest at the top.

“We going to get to your room some time soon?” Valerie asked, already starting to pant for breath. “Your house is huge!”

“My poppa can just carry you if you'd like, Val.” Neala offered.

“I could carry all three of you at once, actually.” Mr. Harris added.

Sinclair waved them all off. “Oh, no need! My room's actually just 'round this corner and the second one from the first; just a few moments more and we can all be loungin' about in the privacy and comfort of my room.”

“And speakin' of loungin' about, I hope y'all won't forget to do your homework!” A elderly woman said from just out of sight.

Sinclair's eyes widened and brightened up in excitement. She ran up ahead of the others, and disappeared around the bend. The three caught up to her and found her at the side of an elderly woman, grinning towards them and gesturing at her.

“Everyone: this is my granny, Sinclair Marie Honeybauble! But everyone just calls her Sugar.”

Sugar would look right at home on the label of a jar of marmalade. She projected an aura of hospitality, friendliness, and caring… but for the briefest moment, the look in her eyes was cold and calculating, almost predatory.

The hostility was all but gone by the time she opened her mouth and spoke. Her voice was soft, sweet, and with her strong Southern accent, wouldn't sound completely out of place in the commercial of said jar of marmalade, either.

“Why hello there! Y'all must be my li'l Sinclair's friends; you must be Valerie, you must be Neala, and I'm guessin' Mr. Extremely Tall, Dark, and Handsome over her is Neala's pappy?” Sugar said, pointing at each person she mentioned.

Mr. Harris nodded. “Samson Harris. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Honeybauble.” He extended one of his massive hands.

Sugar shook it with two of her own dainty ones. “As with you, darlin'.”

“Granny, you won't mind if we save my friends introductions for later, do ya?” Sinclair smiled—one that actually seemed genuine. “Valerie here seems to need a few moments to relax and catch her breath.”

Sugar smiled back and nodded. “But of course! Why don't you show them into your room, while I offer Mr. Harris here some refreshments?” She started shuffling forward, past the girls and to Mr. Harris.

“Right away, granny!” Sinclair said as she walked to a door with “Little Sinclair” on it in colourful plastic blocks. Neala and Valerie followed behind her.

“Make sure you get your homework done, now, li'l lady, or else I'll have to tell you on your parents!” Sugar teased as she quickly coaxed Mr. Harris away from the hall.

Sinclair playfully rolled her eyes as she grabbed the knob. “Yes, granny!”

“Speaking of your parents, where are they, anyway?” Valerie asked.

The warm, friendly atmosphere in the hall suddenly disappeared.

Sinclair's hands tightened on the knob for a moment, while Sugar forced a smile on her face while worry filled her eyes.

“They're overseas at the present time!” Sugair said quickly. “'Fraid my son and my daughter-in-law got into a little kerfuffle that's takin' a while longer to fix than any of us would like.” She explained before she all but ran Mr. Harris out of the area.

“Something like six years too long...” Sinclair mumbled as she pushed open her bedroom door and stalked in.

Valerie frowned uneasily and looked at Neala. Neala gave her a half-hearted smile, and patted her on the shoulder. The two of them walked into Sinclair's room.

She was waiting just inside the door for them, all friendliness and smiles gone from her face.

Neala quietly, awkwardly shut the door behind her.

“Sinclair--” Valerie started.

Sinclair scowled and held up her hand. “Don't. Just… don't, alright? Y'all pray, y'all wish me good will, y'all say you're sorry for me, but y'all do it in private. We clear?”

Valerie nodded. “Crystal.”

Sinclair went back to her usual feline grin. “Good! Now, let's see to business...”


	20. Chapter 20

Sinclair's room would have been simple, almost bare, if it weren't for the abundance of bags, bins, and other containers taking up most of the space.

The only things that looked completely normal and in place were her bedsheets, curtains, and the carpet on her floor, all decorated in a mix of floral patterns and weaves from any of her family members' countries of origin; her bed, with its gigantic excess of pillows of all different varieties available in the world today; and her massive plastic closet, almost completely covered in photographs, colourful stickers, and glue-on letters.

Most of them were similar to the ones displayed out in the halls except for a single prominent photograph, seemingly framed by all the others around it.

It was of a woman who had Sugar's eyes, hair, and smile, and a man with Sinclair's hair and a skin tone close to hers. They were dressed casually, out for a day on the beach with straw hats and loose shirts. A little baby bundled in a blue blanket was tucked in the woman's arm.

_Thud._

Neala and Valerie stopped looking around the room and back to Sinclair. She knelt over a black duffel bag, zipped it open, and rummaged through the contents.

“Can't just have you two goin' out on your little excursions unprepared, so I got y'all some valuable equipment. Keep 'em safe, if'n you please; aside from the costs of replacin' these things, I don't want folks tracin' back anything to me.

“ _Unlikely,_ I know, but I don't like leavin' things to chance.”

Neala and Valerie stepped up in front of Sinclair as she pulled out two identical, generic cellphones, cheap models from before the age of the touchscreen.

“Your work phones. Sims are untraceable so the numbers won't show up anywhere, and no, you can't save 'em on a contacts list, but I have my ways of identification. I'll tell ya them later.”

Valerie took hers without hesitation and started familiarizing herself with the outdated technology.

Neala warily looked at hers, and then at Sinclair. “Untraceable? As in, what criminals use?”

“Many of my suppliers and clients would like to maintain the utmost levels of privacy and confidentiality.” Sinclair explained nonchalantly.

Neala narrowed her eyes at Sinclair, but took the phone nonetheless.

Sinclair dug back into the bag and handed Valerie a package wrapped in black cloth.

“Jackknife lock pick, complete with discreet carryin' case. Not as extensive as a full master's set, mind, but y'all aren't breakin' into anythin' more complex than old school locks, cheap padlocks, and the like.”

Valerie unwrapped her new piece of equipment and started fiddling with it. Though the main body was a little bit large for her hands, using the picks proper was easy, especially with her small hands.

Neala scowled. “Oh, and now we move onto more classic tools of the criminal trade. Where'd you happen to get this?”

Sinclair huffed. “I'll have y'all know this item is easily available through 100% legitimate, legal means!”

“And did you acquire this through those legitimate, legal means…?”

“No comment.” Sinclair returned to the bag.

Valerie practiced flipping out and storing her picks quickly. “So, I have the tools, but how am I going to learn how to actually use them?”

“A combination of the internet, instructional videos, and this.” Sinclair pulled out a doorknob, one that looked identical to the ones the school used, right down to the wear and tear.

“Gotcha.” Valerie said as she locked the device, set it down on the floor, and started trying to open it with her picks.

Neala looked at her friend using a lock pick for the first time in her life, practicing on a doorknob that was likely involved in a vandalism case several weeks ago, then up at Sinclair who had provided them both, and the untraceable cellphones in their pockets.

“You know what? I don't even care anymore...” Neala said flatly.

Sinclair smiled. _“That's_ the spirit.” She zipped the bag closed and stood up. “Mind you, that's not _all_ of the tools and equipment y'all will be usin', but that's basically the core of it. Things like changes of clothes, discrete attire, dust masks, gloves, information—all'll be given out on as needed basis.

“And speakin' of which, I'll be briefin' y'all personally for your first job. Val, you mind puttin' that lock aside a moment?”

“Not yet...” Valerie mumbled as she worked her picks. “Almost...”

_Click._

The lock popped open. Valerie grinned as she removed her lockpicks and flipped them back shut with a little flair.

Sinclair chuckled. “Well, ain't that an encouragin' sight? I daresay, you're a natural, but this here job's gon' be a lot more than just poppin' open locks all casual like—especially since y'all be breakin' in to one of the most exclusive and secure organizations in Middleburg today…”

* * *

The smell of floral deodorant, chic perfume, and designer soap, moisturizers, shampoos, and conditioners hurt Valerie's nose. “Why would anyone want to be in this room, let alone hold a meeting for an hour or two in it?” She wondered.

That question would have to wait for later, though, alongside telling Sinclair she wouldn't go back here without a gasmask or some form of air filtration, because right now, Valerie had a job to do.

“Alright, ladies!” Cheer captain Iris Lukov clapped her hands. “This meeting of the Middleburg Cheer Queens is officially in session! Make sure those doors are locked, because nothing is getting in or out of this room but us!”

Valerie resisted the urge to snigger, and just contented herself with a smirk. She double checked the recorder strapped to her chest and underneath her dress, then listened intently to the meeting.

As Sinclair warned, most of it was about gossip, fashion, and boys, with a small section dedicated to girls, because “if there's anything the Cheer Queens are, it's kind, and totally inclusive!”

It was everything Valerie could do not to groan, bang her head on the locker door, or sigh as she kept on listening still. However inane their conversations were, anything might be a piece that could build up Sinclair's web of information, or connect a few loose strands that were bugging her.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder why Sinclair wanted to infiltrate the Cheer Queens. Most of what they were saying didn't seem to be important or useful in the slightest. It didn't help that Valerie's brain cells were slowly shriveling up into nothing, one by one, as the minutes dragged on.

Then, jackpot.

“Now, for our super secret project that none of you can tell absolutely anyone, ever!”

Valerie perked up. She double-checked her recorder. Far from full, thanks to the magic of terabyte memory cards. She smiled as she watched Iris pace the length of the locker room from the slats on the door, listening in as intently as the other cheerleaders.

“As you all know, this school is totally terrible on funding important things like us Cheer Queens. Things like getting us new and more _fashionable_ uniforms, working showers, and a budget for our events that isn't a jar of change and a 'You'll find a way, we promise!'” Iris groaned. “So, one of our members, who has asked to remain completely, absolutely anonymous—that means no asking or talking about who she might be!--has supplied us with some goodies we can sell on the sly, so we can raise our own funds, because obviously, this school isn't.”

Iris stepped towards the rows of lockers Valerie was hiding in. She heard her footsteps coming closer and closer.

Valerie closed her eyes and silently prayed. “Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me...”

Iris blocked the light from the slats for a tense few seconds. Then, she walked right past Valerie and opened the locker directly beside her.

“Tada! Designer beauty products—make-up, nail polish, and perfumes, without the stupid tax and the prices the mall has to put on these things.”

Valerie quietly sighed in relief. She opened her eyes just in time to get blinded by the light as Iris pulled the door open.

“And here's the rest of it!” Iris happily declared.

The rest of the Cheer Queens started screaming.


	21. Chapter 21

“Oh my god!” Iris screamed. “Those stupid Players and their stupid Game!”

The rest of the locker room erupted in conversation.

“Do you think they stuffed her there to spy on us?”

“I don't know, she seems pretty out of it to me.”

“But what if she's only _pretending_ to be out of it?”

Valerie's heart started racing. She closed her eyes, pretended to be as unconscious and harmless as she could, and hoped no one had seen her flinch earlier. She silently prayed once more.

_'Please don't find out, please don't find out, please don't find out...'_

“Whatever!” Iris slammed the door shut on the locker containing the beauty products. “Somebody just get her out of her already!”

“I'll do it!” A chipper voice piped up, Valerie's new guardian angel: Cheri Woolhearth.

Cheri walked up to Valerie and gently shook her shoulder. “Heeey, you okay there, little buddy?” She said.

Valerie “stirred awake” with a pathetic whimper. She opened her eyes wide and was blinded once more, searing pain shooting into her brain a second time.

It hurt like crazy, and she could have avoided it, but right now, she needed to throw off as much suspicion as possible.

“Ugh…” Valerie made a very real groan. “What happened?”

Cheri frowned. “Someone stuffed you into a locker here in the girl's shower room. You need any help getting out?”

There was suddenly a frantic, persistent knocking on one of the locker room's doors.

Iris glared at the heavens and rubbed her temples. “Cheri, go see who that is while you get that little pipsqueak out!”

Cheri turned to Iris and shook her head. “Tsk-tsk-tsk, what's the magic word...?”

“Are you--?!” Iris groaned. “Please!”

Cheri beamed. “Much better!” She turned back to Valerie. “Hold my hands, I'll pull you out in three, okay?”

Valerie nodded and did so.

“One, two, _three!”_

Valerie staggered out of the locker. She caught herself before Cheri felt the need to grab and steady her—and possibly feel the bump of the recorder on her chest.

“Oh, one of your flip-flops fell off!” Cheri reached around Valerie and picked it up. “Here, let me help you--”

“CHERI!”

Cheri shot Iris a mildly disappointed look before turning back to Valerie with a patient smile. “Actually, you mind if you walk without a flip-flop until we get you out of here?”

Valerie shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Great, thanks!”

Together, the two of them shuffled Valerie out to the door as fast as they could. Cheri opened the door, revealing Neala with her hand up and about to knock once more.

“Oh, hey, hi!” Cheri bent down and set Valerie's flip-flop down on the floor. “Sorry, but the locker room's totally closed right now for a meeting, but I can get you whatever it is you forgot inside!”

“That's fine! I was actually looking for Valerie here.” Neala gestured to Valerie as she slipped her flip-flop back on.

Cheri beamed. “Oh, isn't that cool? I was just helping Valerie here get out the locker room, and was going to find out who was at the door after, but then it turns out you two were totally related! Two birds with one stone, or something! Isn't that--”

“CHERI! Get it over with, already!”

Neala and Valerie winced as the latter shuffled back to her friend's side. Cheri was unfazed.

“Sorry, but I gotta go. You going to be okay with Neala here, Valerie?”

“Yep! Thanks for the help.” Valerie shot her an appreciative smile.

“Yes, thank you _very much_ _.”_ Neala quickly added.

Cheri beamed. “You're welcome!”

Then, she shut the door on both their faces.

_Click._

“Thanks for the save.” Valeri whispered as the two of them quickly shuffled out of the area.

“No problem." Neala whispered back. "You okay? That sounded pretty bad.”

“Yeah.” Valerie nodded. “Got something good, though, but I got busted before I could get all the details.”

“We'll get them later. What's important is you didn't get caught, and you're safe.”

The two of them returned to the main halls. There were only a few students milling about, most of Middleburg Elementary having gone home or to their after school hang-outs already.

“Hey, you know who that girl was? The one named Cheri?” Valerie asked as the two of them made their way to one of the side exits.

“Cheri Woolhearth. She's in a lot of my classes. She's super nice, and is basically the one thing that keeps the Cheer Queens from turning on Iris.”

“They friends?”

“Heck no. Think Jaime and Adam: they're willing to work with each other, but not much else.”

Valerie smiled as the two of them stepped out of the school and made their way to the bus stop.

“I think I've got an idea...”

* * *

“Okay, this meeting is now in session!” Cheri clapped her hands, everyone quieted down and listened. “Before we begin with our usual gossip and events bit, I've got some great news!”

“Hold it!” Iris cried as she bolted up from her seat.

She peered into every locker in the room, pulling open the ones she could, sticking a ruler through the slats of the ones she couldn't.

Cheri chuckled. “Paranoid much, Iris?”

The other Cheer Queens just watched silently.

Iris roamed the entirety of the girl's shower room, checking and double-checking every locker before she returned to her seat, not a single spy busted or stabbed. She grumbled and muttered darkly under her breath as she sat back down on the benches.

The other Cheer Queens slid away and gave her a good amount of space, some opting to stand up instead.

Cheri waited a few moments before continuing as if nothing had happened. “Sinclair's made us Cheer Queens the sole distributors of those beauty products she's selling!

“Before any of you complain--”Cheri shot Iris a knowing look. “She's agreed that we keep 90% of the profits for our funds, 10% for herself, and will be in charge of keeping us stocked at a _huge_ discount so long as our anonymous supplier shares with Sinclair where she got the products we used to sell!

“Isn't that awesome?”

Most of the Cheer Queens murmured their agreement. Iris just gritted her teeth, steaming as she cast a glance to the two lockers where their products were gathering dust.

“Glad to hear it! Anyway, I think we should all do something nice for Sinclair, because she's been so generous with is!”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Iris bolted up from her seat. “That little snake ruins our plans, and you want to thank her?!”

Cheri held out her arms, and gestured for Iris to sit back down. “Iris, deep, calming breaths, go to your happy place...”

“I'll go to my happy place when Sinclair is out of this school or I am!”

Cheri pouted. “Now you're shouting. That's bad.” She crossed her arms. “I'm not going to talk to you until you're calmer, Iris.”

Iris groaned, stomped off, and sulked in a corner. Too busy with the storm clouds above her head, she never noticed Valerie hiding in the vent just above her, listening in intently while she lay on her stomach on a modified skateboard.

“So, back on track: anyone have any suggestions?” Cheri asked.

* * *

To the outside observer, it would look like Neala was just loitering in the halls, just below a vent. Though against school rules, it escaped the attention of all but the most by-the-book hall monitors and school staff.

Too quiet for anyone but Neala to hear, someone tapped “Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits” on the walls of the vents.

Neala casually peered out at the rest of the hallway around her. She leaned back on the wall as she waited for a group of teachers to pass by, only one of them giving her a half-hearted reminder that school was already out.

She checked one more time to be sure, then whispered up at the vents:

“Go.”

The grate swung open, Valerie climbed out, and fell into Neala's waiting arms with her skateboard in hand. Held up in the air, Valerie secured the grate back on the vent so it looked like it had never been opened. Neala set Valerie back down on the floor, and the two of them relaxed and looked as inconspicuous as possible.

It was done so fast you would have only caught it if you were already watching them beforehand.

The two made their way out of the area before anyone could realize that Valerie wasn't there before. They rounded the corner and stopped as they came face to face with Therese, still wearing her usual scowl.

“Sinclair wants to see you two. Now.”

Neala and Valerie gave each other knowing looks, and moved to a quiet corner so Therese could put on the blindfolds.


	22. Chapter 22

Sinclair was a far cry from when Valerie first saw her. Instead of the laid back girl with the kind words and the casual, unhurried drawl, she was now constantly hunched over her phone or on two others, speaking and barking in short, almost hostile sentences, the expression on her face _far_ from friendly.

All around her desk, there were several open notebooks and books, a mix of actual schoolwork and business journals.

“Busy?” Valerie asked as she and Neala sat in their usual chairs.

“Yes, yes I am!” Sinclair barked just as she hung up one of her phones and another one rang almost immediately after. “'Scuse me!”

She answered it and forced a smile on her face. “Hello, you've reached—yeah? What?!” Her smile disappeared. “Well why didn't you—?!” Sinclair groaned. “The chain of command exists for a reason, y'all!” She hung up, picked up a different phone, and started dialing.

She forced another smile on her face, hostility dripping from it. “Howdy, y'all! It's your boss! Y'all are fired, get out, now, if'n ya please.” She hung up again, put it down, and sighed.

Neala and Valerie frowned. “Bad news?” Neala asked.

“No. Good news.” Sinclair said flatly, her hostile smile now an exhausted frown. “Y'all just helped root out one of the biggest leaks of supplies and information in my business.”

“You don't seem very happy to hear it...” Valerie said.

“I will once I manage to find me some folks who can help manage this mess!” Sinclair snapped. All three of her phones rang at once. “Son of a biscuit! Val, N'ala, answer those doggone phones for me and put them both on loudspeaker!” She said as she picked up her and put it to her ear.

Valerie and Neala quickly obeyed. They didn't completely understand the ensuing conversation, but what they did get from it was that whatever it was, Sinclair was not happy to hear it, all three callers were talking about the same thing, and it forced her to mark, correct, and consult three different notebooks.

A chorus of alarms beeped in all three phones. Sinclair grinned. “Bye y'all!”, “See you later!”, “Y'all call back now!” she sang as she gleefully hung up on each caller. Then, she groaned, slumped forward, and let her head hit her desk.

Thud.

“Oh, sweet mother of mercy, I thought my break'd never come...” Sinclair mumbled into the wood.

Valerie and Neala shared uneasy looks.

“I'm fine!” Sinclair cried as she pushed herself off her desk, a smile back on her face. “Y'all don't need to worry! Everything's fine—better than fine, actually! You could say things couldn't be more swell!”

Valeria and Neala's eyes turned from Sinclair and back to each other.

“Before y'all ask, it turns out that when you get the lowdown on your major competitor's activities, expand into endeavors y'all hadn't been privy to, and plug up the leaks of a market's cash flow—like, say, people takin' it by force—folks tend to get plenty looser and plenty more generous with all that extra cash they now have in their pockets.”

“Wow.” Valerie said. “Me and Neala are that good?”

Sinclair chuckled humourlessly. “Better. _Much_ better, actually! Much better than I ever thought y'all would be. Which is somethin' of a mixed blessin', as we like to call 'em.” She let her head drop back down to the table.

Thud.

Neala frowned. “So… having trouble getting extra help?”

“Yes.” Sinclair said into her desk. “To give y'all an idea about some of the new expansions: I'm now running a candy smuggling ring, an illegal after school food eatin' competition, and am negotiatin' a deal for some surplus phone danglies. Kids just _love_ havin' a cutesy little critter hangin' off their flippin' phones, especially if they can get them lower than retail--

Sinclair raised her head up and grimaced. “--Specifically, from yours truly.” She dropped her head again.

Thud.

“And in my line of business, findin' someone to manage some _pretty_ steep earners without takin' a little unofficial cut for themselves is difficult, to say the least.”

Without raising her head from her desk, Sinclair pulled open a drawer, and blindly pulled out a plastic container. She flipped the latches open by feeling them. The smell of something sweet filled the air, something with a strong scent of coconuts.

“Y'all mind if I eat durin' our little meetin'?” Sinclair turned her head up. “That was a rhetorical question—I'm eatin' in my own friggin' office when I want to.”

Neala and Valerie both shook their heads. Sinclair smiled, pushed herself back to a sitting position, and started eating her snack: something sticky, gooey, and sprinkled with toasted coconut bits.

“Mmpphh…” Sinclair said while she ate. “Y'all can't be unhappy when y'all have this... it just ain't possible…”

Valerie looked at her watches, Neala peered at the time on her phone. They both turned back to Sinclair and Neala opened her mouth to speak.

Sinclair held up her hand, the one not covered in sticky rice residue. “I'm aware. I just had y'all sent here so ya can see just how badly I need new managers. If y'all know someone who has a mind for business, and don't mind it bein' a little bit skewed, send 'em to me, alright?”

Valerie grunted an affirmative.

“Got it.” Neala said, before she slid off her chair and started making her way back to the door.

Valerie grabbed her arm. “Good luck with Tia.” She smiled.

Neala smiled back, before she looked away and frowned. The door opened to reveal Therese outside and already waiting with another blindfold.

“Much luck stoppin' your sister from doin' what she's gon' do!” Sinclair yelled before they closed and locked the door after them.

Sinclair finished her snack and slumped back into her chair.

Valerie shook her head at the sight. “Sinclair, you need a vacation—a long one.”

Sinclair turned mildly annoyed eyes at Valerie. “No, I need more employees.”

Valerie sighed and gave her a withering look. “Seriously?”

“My family has a sayin': 'We'll clock out when we're dead.'”

The door knob started jiggling.

Valerie looked at it and frowned. “Did one of your employees forget their keys or something?”

Sinclair paled. “I'm the only one who owns one.” She quickly jumped off her chair, and started dragging it by the vent above her head. “Quick, get--”

Someone stuck a key in the lock. The two of them froze in place as the knob turned, the door opened, and in stepped two beefy older kids flanking a girl. One of the grunts handed their skeleton key back to their boss, she grinned as she put it back into the front pocket of her designer jeans.

Sinclair and Valerie knew her—there wasn't anyone in Middleburg Elementary that didn't know Samara Elise “Sandy” Yapp.

She was what Sinclair called “a deliriously deadly combination”: charm, good looks, intelligence, and no issue using all three to get what she wanted.

She calmly sashayed into Sinclair's office, and her grunts followed. One of them stood directly beside Sandy, the other put a pale and deathly quiet Sinclair back onto her chair, and carried both back behind her desk before looming menacingly over her.

Valerie slowly slid out of her seat.

Sandy's striking green eyes snapped to her.

Valerie felt her glare pierce her very soul. She didn't even notice the warning looks from either of her grunts.

“You. Stay.”

Valerie gulped and slowly slid back in her seat.

Sandy smiled, showing off her perfect pearly white teeth. She casually flipped a lock of her luxurious, curly black hair over her shoulder as she turned to Sinclair, looking not unlike a cat that was just about to enjoy a long, _long_ session of playing with their prey.

“Sinclair.” Sandy said calmly.

“Sandy.” Sinclair squeaked.

“We're both busy people, so I'll cut straight to the chase: I want you to work for me, my dear. You've got a rather good thing going on, and I _want_ it, with you as manager.”

Sinclair started nodding vigorously. “Of course, of course, of course!” She said, her voice several pitches too high. “Very smart business sense, might I add, do well to keep in the old staff even though the upper management's movin' on out—or down, in this case.

“Now, how much exactly will I be earnin' under your wing? Any benefits to speak of?” Sinclair smiled hopefully.

Sandy chuckled. The grunt behind Sinclair cleared their throat.

Sinclair paled once more. “Riiiggghttt… gotcha, ma'am—or would y'all like something like 'Big Kahuna' instead?”

“'Ma'am' works just fine.” Sandy purred. “Pleasure to have you, Sinclair; you'll be getting the exact details of your duties soon.” She narrowed her eyes. “And as you know, I have _very_ high expectations; I trust you won't disappoint?”

Sinclair squeaked and vigorously shook her head. “Of course not, ma'am, absolutely not! I promise I'll live up to them and _then_ some!”

Sandy chuckled. “That is what I like to hear. Farewell, Sinclair.” She snapped her fingers, and got up from her seat. Her bodyguards returned to either side of her as she sashayed on out of Sinclair's office.

The door closed after them, locked once more.

Sinclair melted and slipped right off her seat.

_Whumph._

Valerie hopped off her seat, rushed around the desk, and tried to pick her fallen boss up. Being thin, spindly, and not particularly strong, she couldn't do much.

“You okay?” Valerie asked as Sinclair pushed herself back up.

“Shaken up badly, yeah! But, I'll live, thank ya for askin, sweetie.”

The two of them stepped out from the darkness underneath Sinclair's desk and back to the dim light of her office.

“How you could you just let her do that?!” Valerie asked.

Sinclair scowled. “Well forgive me, but this--!” She gestured to her short, pudgy frame. “Don't exactly inspire confidence in matters of the violent and intimadatin' persuasion!”

Valerie tried to think of a reply, before she thought better of it, a resigned expresison now on her face.

Sinclair gave a depressed chuckle bordering on a sob. “Pretty ironic, don't ya think? That the one time we stopped most of the bullyin' is exactly when someone goes and muscles their way into my business...”

Valerie glared at the door. “We have to get it back.”

Sinclair sighed. “So sorry to rain on your parade, Val, but I doubt we can provide anything to Ms. Sandy in exchange for my business back. She's the girl that has everything and then some: popular, beautiful, smart, devious, and as of this moment, rich independent of her parents—who also don't need no help in that department, last I heard."

Sinclair smiled and patted Valerie's shoulders. “Don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'll figure out some way to make the best of this bed situation!”

Valerie hummed, then frowned uneasily. “Are you still going to be able to keep up my protection?”

Sinclair laughed. “Oh, I'm  sure I can find some way to keep y'all safe anyway, I promise!”


	23. Chapter 23

“I really am very truly sorry!” Sinclair yelled as she and Valerie ran down the halls.

“Just RUN!” Valerie yelled back.

The two of them heard the thundering of their hunters' footsteps; once they rounded the corner, there was no chance they could escape again.

Valerie grabbed Sinclairs' arm, pulled her towards an empty classroom, and shoved her in. She slammed the door in her face before Sinclair could protest, running all the way back to the center of the hall so the hunters wouldn't figure out which one it was.

They found Valerie glaring at them, sweat pouring down her body and soaking her clothes, panting and struggling to breath.

Her steely glare never wavered as they loomed over her before hauling her off.

It didn't matter that Valerie had seen their faces, knew their names.

No one saw anything, the hunters would never admit to it, and evidence was suspiciously scarce.

Most of all, they'd paid Sandy for a hunting license for one “Pink Pygmy Whale.”

* * *

Valerie stepped into the Harris' living room covered in pink paint, fake flamingo feathers glued all over her body.

“Flaming-O yeah...” She limply made a line in the air. “Crunch like you mean it...”

Neala and Sinclair were at either side of her, helping her walk. Pink paint and fake flamingo feathers were stuck to them, too, though not as much as Valerie.

Mrs. Harris stepped out of the kitchen, holding a tray of freshly baked pretzels, about to open to open her mouth to announce them. She saw Valerie, nearly dropped the tray, before set it down on the nearest counter then rushed to open the bathroom door.

Tiana stood up on the old couch, looked over the top, and saw Valerie. She grinned, pulled her head back, and started laughing.

“Oh, man, I knew the guys promised it was going to be epic, but I didn't realize it was going to be _this_ good!”

Mrs. Harris snapped her head to her daughter, but Neala beat her to the punch. She left Valerie's side and stormed up to back of the old couch, looking up and glaring at her sister's grinning face.

“You _knew_ this was going to happen?!”

Tiana was still grinning as she shook her head. “Not all of it! The guys said it going to be a surprise, and _boy,_ did they _deliver!”_ She reared her head back and laughed once more.

Neala flared up in anger before she rushed back into the bathroom with Valerie, Sinclair, and her mother.

As the three girls watched Valerie get drenched, feathers falling to the floor, pink paint and glue washing down the drain, a single thought crossed all three of their minds:

This stops now.

* * *

Books were a mainstay in Neala's room. Though there was the usual fair of picture books, popular children's literature, and the occasional art book from cartoons and movies, there were also “for older readers” books you normally wouldn't expect on an elementary school student's private collection.

She owned copies of fictional series aimed for teen or older audiences, like the “The Ties That Bind,” a fantasy series filled with graphic, brutal, and depressing depictions of the effects of large-scale war on civilians, and some controversial non-fiction like “The Spotlight Effect: Why Big Change comes only comes after Big Tragedy.”

Psychology books also dominated shelf-space. Among the titles: “The Science of Bad Behaviour,” “Why Do We Hurt The Ones We Love The Most?: A Study on Closeness, Societal Expectations, and Sibling Rivalry,” and “He Changed! She's Not The Same!: Your Guide to Dealing with Dramatic Changes in a Person's Personality.”

Also included: “How to Deal with Difficult People,” “Home Is Where the Hurt Is: Coping with, Dealing with, and Preventing the creation of Dysfunctional Families,” and “My House Is A Minefield: What To Do when your Safe Haven is _f_ _ar_ from 'Safe.'”

About the only completely “age appropriate” thing in Neala's room were her pictures. They were much more personal and sentimental than the ones on display outside; instead of exotic locations and theme parks, they were set in much more mundane locations like the Harrises' former apartment building, public parks, and what Valerie assumed to be the gym that Mr. Harris worked in.

Among them: two identical girls, identical dresses and tiaras, identical smiles, and different hairstyles, sitting at a tea party with two plush toys filling the other seats. The same girls, a little bit older, dressed in matching boxing equipment with only the colours of their gloves—pink and purple—to differentiate them. The two sitting on the old couch, one of them bawling her eyes out—Neala--the other feeding her sister a gigantic spoonful of fudge brownie ice cream—Tiana.

In the center of it all, in its own little island of free space was of Neala a year back, standing at the front of their old school. There was a hand on her shoulder, and she looked to be doing the same to her companion.

You couldn't see who it was as the whole thing had been torn down the middle and was missing its other half.

“'S a very nice room you've got, N'ala.” Sinclair said as she awkwardly looked around, at a loss for what to do.

“Thanks.” Neala said flatly. She cast another worried look at Valerie sitting beside her.

Most of the paint and all of the glue and feathers had been washed off and disposed off. Valerie's clothes had been tossed into the wash, and for the moment, she wore one of Neala's shirts, practically a very loose dress on her frame. All that remained was the pink paint in her hair, the curls even more difficult to wash than they usually were.

Now she just sat quietly with a towel around her shoulders, staring at the floor and thinking.

Sinclair had tried her best, there was no question about that. Even after losing her business, becoming blind to most of her operations, and being forced to solve the new issues by herself, she'd done everything in her power to keep Valerie and the rest of Middleburg Elementary safe—if not for their sake, then for the bottom-line Sandy expected.

But unfortunately, Sandy saw a great opportunity when she opened the empty locker next to hers, Valerie fell out, and a Player was nearby recording the whole thing “In the Name of the Game.”

Soon after that, both Neala and Sinclair had stopped trying to take preventive measures and guard her, and instead focused on finding Valerie as soon as she mysteriously disappeared from the halls, or didn't make it to a class.

Valerie herself had stopped spending the spoons trying to run, or sneak about under the Players' noses. In one of Sinclair's many regrets, the system of back doors, air vents, and blind spots Valerie, her normal spies, and her contraband couriers used to escape notice and get about discretely was exactly the same thing that could pinpoint where Valerie was at any given moment.

They probably could have done a fine job of it if they didn't need to care about not being late to class again, their fast slipping grades, or in Valerie's case, not passing out in the middle of a lecture, or getting stuffed somewhere cramped, dark, and hopefully not moist.

“We can't be the only ones...” Valerie mumbled.

Neala turned to her and frowned. “Sorry, Val, didn't catch that.”

Sinclair perked up and walked over to join them. “Say it again for me too, Val? 'Cause I didn't hear it either.”

“We can't be the only ones Sandy's screwing over.” Valerie repeated louder. “There has to be others. Others who've been terrorized, bullied, and strong-armed. Others who want to get back, do something, keep it from happening, but they can't, because they need someone…

“Someone to lead them.”

Neala frowned even deeper. “Val, I'm getting serious, ominous villain speech vibes from you right now.”

Valerie turned to Neala, her expression almost blank. “You going to stop me?”

“Heck no.” Neala smiled. “I'm waiting to hear the rest of it.”

“Ditto that!” Sinclair added as she hopped onto Valerie's other side, also grinning.

Valerie couldn't help but smile, too, before she turned serious once more.

“We're going to find them. We're going to round them all up. We're going to gather all our skills, our resources, our numbers, then we're going to use them to fight back against the bullies. Keep everyone safe. Take back what's ours.

“Everybody's got a weakness. We just need to find it.”

Sinclair pursed her lip. “You still have me, Val, but I think that last line's a bit _too_ ominous; don't want no one to feel like they're the _dark_ grey side in this kerfuffle.”

“How about 'Everybody wants something. We want to be free.'?” Neala offered.

“Much better, in my opinion!” Sinclair said.

Valerie nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great, N'ala. Now we need a name...”

“'The Rescue Rangers'?” Neala offered.

Valerie shook her head. “Too cutesy. We can't have the same name as a bunch of talking chipmunks in clothes—no one will take us seriously.”

“Anyone against a good old fashioned X Inc. or other such ambiguous, mysterious name straight outta a spy thriller?” Sinclair asked.

“I am.” Valerie said.

“Me too.” Neal continued. “We need to be more original. Plus, corporations are generally the bad guys, or just the worse guys.”

Sinclair hummed. “I see what y'all mean… we gotta have a name that ain't cutesy, ain't too evil, but ain't too non-threatenin' either... tall order, if there ever was one!”

The purple tips on Valerie's hair glowed. Too busy brainstorming, no one noticed.

“Cereal Chillers.” She said.

Sinclair blinked. “Say what now?”

“Cereal Chillers.” Valerie repeated. “It's from Flaming-O's—well, the company that makes them, anyway. They made something called the Agents of CEREAL, a universe they made to tie in all of their other cereals like Penguine Pops or Cuckoo Crisps.

“'Chillers' are what they call their agents used to deal with problematic individuals.”

“Assassins, ya mean?” Sinclair asked, her eyes widening.

“Basically.” Neala explained. “They use a 'Freeze Gun' and just 'ice' people because obviously you can't have actual death in a cereal cartoon series.”

“Back on topic: how do you guys feel about calling ourselves the 'Cereal Chillers'?” Valerie asked.

“Cereal Chillers...” Sinclair felt the name roll of her tongue. “Ominous, threatenin', yet has that silliness to it that keeps it from bein' too dark. I like it!”

“They're my favourite part in all the cartoons and commercials—heck yeah I'm okay with calling ourselves the Cereal Chillers!”

Valerie grinned. “Cereal Chillers it is.”

There was a niggling part of Valerie that told her to turn around, disband the Cereal Chillers now, try to solve their problems like how they should have, with the help of the adults and the school staff.

But there was a much larger part of her that drowned it out, the one was making her purple hair tips glow and her minds race with all sorts of ideas and plans.


	24. Chapter 24

Sinclair whisled. “Stars above, Val, you sure you ain't secretly a supervillain or somethin'? I ain't no stranger to covert operations, undercover networks, and black markets… but this is really somethin' else.”

Sheets of paper were spread out all over Neala's floor, filled with scribbles, writing, and images all done in Valerie's scratchy, just legible handwriting. Valerie herself stayed at Neala's desk, still writing up a storm on office paper with whatever pens or writing implements she could find.

Valerie grunted as she handed another completed sheet to Neala, then pointed it to where it needed to go. “I watched a lot of movies and read about them, alright? Figured I should know what I was getting into when I started working for you.”

“You sure there wasn't a book or a series there called 'The Budding Supervillain's Guide to Evil Schemes'?” Neala quipped.

It was actually called “Observing and Taking Notes about What Rippen and Larry Did, How, and Why, then how Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Boone Stopped Them,” but that was a secret.

Valerie shook her head. “Very funny, guys.” She spun around on Neala's chair and slipped off, taking two steps before she reached the edge of her mosaic of papers and laid down the last piece of the moment.

They were a mishmash of schemes, guides, and diagrams, a mixture of knowledge she knew by heart like Middleburg Elementary's ventilation system and disused facilities, details Sinclair had shared about her—or rather, Sandy's—operations, and a few things she didn't realize she had until it came springing forth from her brain and onto the page.

The whole mess looked completely, absolutely incomprehensible at first glance, but Valerie knew there was a method to this madness—her madness.

Neala and Sinclair joined her at her sides, peering at the collection and failing to make heads or tails of it.

“Mind letting us in to how this whole shebang works, Val?” Sinclair asked. “I mean, I understand we don't want no non-Chiller figurin' out how our system works…”

Valerie nodded to herself and started carefully crawling over the pages, marking, reviewing, and modifying her writings. “I'll explain it all to you guys when it's done.”

Neala frowned and looked at the vast amount of paper covering her spacious room. “'When it's done'?” She turned back to Valerie. “You mean this isn't all of it?”

“Not by a long shot.” Valerie said without looking back. “I still need your guys input on something—like what are we going to call ourselves, individually?”

Neala shrugged. “Might as well use something from cereals; no reason we shouldn't keep the theme going.”

Valerie perked up and quickly looked at her friends with a hopeful smile. “Can I be Agent Flaming-O?!”

Sinclair frowned and shook her head sadly. “'Fraid not, Val; it's a bit too obvious for someone out there to make the connection 'tween you and your code name.”

“Gonna have to agree on that, Val, sorry...” Neala continued.

Valerie's smile shattered. She quietly returned to her work.

“What about the other agents of CEREAL?" Neala offered. "I mean, there's a lot of members there, and it's not just the faces on the boxes—lots of choices.”

Valerie shook her head as she flipped over a page. “If it's all the same to you guys, I'm only fan of Flaming-O's; all the rest are just… nah.”

Neala nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Then how about a cereal that ain't related to either of those? Any of you folks opposed to bein' called Lenny?”

Valerie looked up. “Lemon Lion Logs?” She shrugged. “Yeah, not a fan like my Uncle Boone, but sure, it works.”

“Maybe we shouldn't do that, either.” Neala said. “How about something close like Leona, Tigress, or even Kitty Kat? Lots of respectable but intimidating characters are named after cats.”

“I'll take Kitty Kat!” Valerie said as she scribbled out a large portion on a page. “It sounds harmless, which is _perfect.”_

“Can I take Leona?” Neala asked. “I know it's close and all, but I like it.”

“Only if neither of you have any issue with me being Calico! I love those cats!”

“Kitty Cat, Leona, and Calico...” Valerie mumbled as she scribbled it on the margin of one of the pages. She smiled. “Perfect.”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“N'ala Bunny?" Mrs. Harris said. "Sorry to interrupt whatever it is you and your friends are having a great time with, but Val's parents are here to take her back home! Also, no rush, but I think Valerie might want to show herself before Sashi breaks down this door.”

The three girls froze. All three of them looked at each other with similar expressions of horror and panic. As quickly and as discretely as they could, they started collecting Valerie's notes and papers.

“We'll be right out, momma!” Neala cried as she pulled open one of her desk drawers and shoved some of the papers in. “Just give us a minute or two!”

“Okay!”

Valerie and Sinclair shoved the rest of the papers into the drawer, Neala closed it and locked it. The three of them sighed in relief, then shared a look that said, “We have got to find a better way to plot and scheme soon.”

Evidence hidden and Neala's room rearranged and returned to how it was before Valerie's plotting frenzy, the three of them stepped out of Neala's room and back to the hallway outside, side-by-side.

Then Sinclair and Neala jumped _well_ out of the way as Sashi dashed from the living room, thundered down the hall, and scooped Valerie into her arms.

While it didn't knock the wind out of her, it was easy for Valerie to notice how hard her mother was trying _not_ to hug her as tightly as she possibly could.

Sashi planted a quick kiss on her forehead before she carefully set Valerie back down to the floor and knelt down with her.

“You okay?” She asked.

Valerie smiled. “Yeah.”

Sashi smiled back and pulled her into another hug.

Penn walked up with a bag filled with Valerie's clothes, smiling at his wife and his daughter. He turned his attention to Neala and Sinclair, and waved. “Hey, I heard about what you fuyn did for Valerie! Thank you; you two are good kids.”

Sashi pulled away from Valerie, gave her another kiss on the forehead, then smiled at Sinclair and Neala. “Yes… thank you.”

The three girls smiled. Though with Valerie's, there was just a little hint of reluctance.

* * *

Valerie happily dug into her bowl of Flaming-O's, the second one she's had that day. As she chomped down on more strawberry cereal goodness, she wondered if there were other, more convenient ways to get cereal for dinner other than getting victimized by the Game or Sandy.

Sashi just watched her, smiling and doing her best not to get out of her chair, hug and kiss her even more than she already had.

“Hey, Sash?” Penn said as he cooked macaroni and cheese on the stove. “You wonder if we should tell Neala and Sinclair, too?”

For the first time since reuniting with Valerie, Sashi scowled. “Penn, if you mean to say you want my daughter and her friends to become part-time heroes, too, the answer is 'No'!”

Valerie's spoon stopped in mid-air, a large serving of Flaming-O's slowly getting soggy.

“Not right now, obviously!” Penn said as he added salt. “Minimum age is 13, I know that… but someday.”

Valerie lowered her spoon back into her bowl. “Do you guys really think we can become heroes?”

“I don't see why not!” Penn said as he stirred the pot. “I can see you guys already: whoever's going to be the hero and the sidekick's a toss up between you and Neala, seeing as she's pretty fit, capable, and has just got that thing that makes heroes, heroes _;_ and you, Valerie, are pretty smart, and clever, with that right mix of curiosity, initiative, and empathy that makes a great hero.”

Sashi scowled. “Are you saying my daughter's not good enough to be a hero?”

“I'm not!” Penn looked back and raised his hands up in mock surrender for a moment. “Though, to be fair, being a sidekick isn't necessarily bad; I know one who's an _amazing_ person.” He winked at Sashi.

Sashi quickly turned red and scowled even harder at Penn.

Valerie chuckled and said nothing.

“Sinclair's also a lot smarter than she looks—all that friendliness and charisma is also going to come in pretty handy, since every dream team needs a diplomat. You guys get a few more years under your belt, keep mostly on the straight and narrow, and get a little training, I'm sure you guys will make a great hero team!”

Valerie smiled. “You really think so?”

Sashi reached over and held her hand. “I know so with you, at least. You don't let anything keep you down for very long—one of the things all heroes have.”

Penn came around the table and started serving up mac 'n' cheese for him and Sashi. “Determination's only part of it though! You gotta be made of the right stuff off the bat, yeah, but you also have to go through a lot of training and learning!”

“Can Auntie Phyllis help me train?” Valerie asked.

Sashi shook her head. “Nope. All she really does is maintain the MUT and zap us in and out.”

“Can you guys help me train, then?”

Penn didn't notice a dollop of cheese-coated macaroni fall on the table. Sashi reflexively squeezed Valerie's hand.

Valerie blinked. Her smile slowly started to turn into a frown.

“… We'll try to find the time, honey.” Sashi said quietly.

Penn chuckled nervously. “Yeah, you know how things are these days...”

Valerie sighed quietly and looked down into her bowl.

Sashi squeezed her hand again. “Eat your cereal, honey; remember what we said?”

Valerie looked up and smiled at her. “Heroes don't let cereal get soggy.”

Sashi smiled back. “Yep, so get to it, alright?”

Valerie nodded and shoveled another spoonful into her mouth.

Though still great, it didn't taste quite as good as earlier.


	25. Chapter 25

The wet stain down the front of the Player's pants was actually lemonade, but no one was going to bother finding out.

The Player screamed and panicked as people started pointing, the sounds of laughter, excited conversation, and phone cameras going off all over the cafeteria. Furious eyes roamed the area, but their shooter had already disappeared into the crowds.

Another student casually slipped off her seat, so uninteresting and low on the social order that no one noticed them. She passed by a student shuffling in the opposite direction, one with a water pistol hidden in their pants.

Hard to see even without the ruckus and the crowds, she slipped a tiny snack-sized box of cereal into the shooter's hand. To the outside observer, it was just a normal box of Lemon Lion Logs. Inside, however, was a set of instructions and a rare card from a popular trading card game.

Aside from their payment, there wasn't any risk to the Chillers if the box was intercepted. No one could completely decode the instructions inside by themselves.

All except one student.

* * *

“ _First_ a bully almost kills her on the first day of school, _then_ she gets stuffed into lockers and trashcans and even _tortured_ for kicks, and _now_ you're telling me there's a friggin' conspiracy going on?!”

Middleburg Elementary's Principal frowned. “Mrs. Kobayashi, I ask you to please refrain from over-exaggerating the situation.”

Sashi  tossed a number of empty, flattened cereal boxes on the desk, covers up. They were all snack-sized, about enough for a  single  serving. “I found these in my daughter's backpack.”

The principal forced a smile. “Well, I can't fault Ms. Kobayashi for collecting these, the art on cereal boxes are rather enticing and creative these days!”

Sashi said nothing as she started flipping over the cereal boxes, one by one. Every  centimeter of blank cardboard had a number of indecipherable scribbles and graphs, code words and cryptic symbols, some of them incomplete and requiring another box,  or someone who actually understood what was written.

The principal watched in silence.

“I'm sure you have video evidence—if there's any cameras that are still working in this entire school, it's the ones in the main hall, right?”

The principal nodded.

“You know what happened?”

The principal nodded again.

“Tell me.”

“Ms. Kobayashi was accosted by a group of students--”

Sashi sighed. “Just drop the politically correct act already, it's getting old and I've only got so much time till my next job.”

The principal nodded. “Your daughter was turned into an unwilling courier.”

Sashi scowled. “Yep. They grabbed her, stuffed these things into her backpack, then told her to go deliver it for them—except she didn't, she went straight home like she was supposed to, and now we have this.”

Sashi laid down one more box of cereal. Flaming-O's—only Agent Flaming-O's head had been cut out.

“I'm pretty sure we can both see a death threat here, yeah?”

“Maybe not _kill_ her, exactly… but yes, the students can be very vicious.”

Sashi shook her head. “What is wrong with kids these days? And where the heck do they even find the time to think all this up?!”

The principal leaned back into their chair and rubbed their temples. “If you have any concrete leads or answers, Mrs. Kobayashi, they would be much appreciated, because honestly, we don't know, either.”

* * *

“I have done some questionable things, Val, but even that left a bad taste in my mouth.” Sinclair mumbled.

Valerie hugged Agent Flaming-O tighter to her chest. “It was the only way I could throw the heat of me, okay? Besides, they knew what they were getting into.”

“Was it worth it, though?” Neala asked.

Valerie groaned.  “That's up for them to decide. We gave them what they wanted, didn't we?  Look, i f you guys feel so bad for them, why don't you arrange a care package for them?”

Sinclair sighed. “Can't. Now that the word's out, Sandy's suddenly got the crab claw's on the books. No more teeny tiny disappearin' dollars for a while, until after this whole hubub 'bout us dies down—which might take a few weeks, at the very least.”

“The Players have been getting really ansty about us, too;” Neala added. “I think the only thing stopping them from forming a lynch mob and just harassing every last potential Chiller in the school is that they're at least smart enough to know that's not going to get them anywhere but expelled.”

Valerie pushed herself up from her bed, Flaming-O still in her grasp. She looked around her room: Neala down at the foot of her bed, cross-legged and staring at the ceiling; Sinclair sitting on  the  cheap plastic  chair by her desk ; a giant corkboard filled with dozens of doodles and writings, what her parents thought were just innocent scribbles, but were actually plans, notes, and the keys to decoding Cereal Chiller Boxes.

“Agh, there's too much pressure!" Valerie let her head fall back to her pillows with a thump. "The Game, Sandy, the school… it's only a matter of time before one of them gets us, or we all just collapse from the logistics...”

“Think we should finally commence Operation: Soggy Cereal?” Neala asked as she turned back to look at Valerie.

Valerie shook her head.  “ No. We still have options.  We need to do something,  fast! Something big...  something that'll send  everyone a message. Something that'll stop anyone from trying to mess with us ever again...”

A  tense silence fell over the room. Sinclair and Neala watched Valerie, ominous feelings rising up in all three of them.

“I think it's time we Ice someone.”

Sinclair flinched and nearly fell out of the chair.

N eala eyes wide ned . “I'm not taking out my own sister! Or any of the other Players, you know how they are,  it's like a hydra! Cutting  of f one only grows two more—and the rest will be peeved, to say the least .” 

“Don't think we can be 'all down with the system,' either...” Sinclair continued. “Unless y'all happen to have a comprehensive plan to take the fight to ole Washington?”

“Which only leaves Sandy.” Valerie finished as she slowly sat back up. “Taking her out of the equation will also make it easy for Sinclair to get her business back, make a lot of operations we're doing right now redundant, give us access to some resources we've been needing badly since the start...”

The purple tips on Valerie's hair started glowing again. She turned to Sinclair. “Does Sandy have any hobbies? Preferably something that's public and obvious.”

Sinclair forget the sick feeling in her stomach for a moment as she thought. “Well, just two days ago she skipped out on a meeting with one of our clients, said she was gon' be late for somethin'. I did a little askin' around, and turns out, she just started at that Budding Stars Studios? You know, the ones where ambitious parents with lotsa spare moolah send their kids to sing, dance—show off their stuff which they may or may not actually have?”

Valerie blinked. “Sandy sings?”

“Most probably! I mean, I ain't ever heard her so much as whistle, but that might be because she's one of those artist types that ain't too confident in their art, however good they might actually be.”

Valerie grinned. She pulled the trigger on Agent Flaming-O's gun.

“ _Flaming-O Yeah!”_

* * *

“It's just that with all the awfulness that's been going on, we think it might be a good way to cheer the students back up, raise moral, have a good time and show that school's about having fun, too.” Cheri said.

“Plus, this might be some students big break, you know? Their chance to show the world their stuff, finally get recognized for what they are, and become famous.” Iris continued, a dreamy look in her eyes and a suspect grin on her lips.

Ms. Thorne, the school's 6th grade art teacher and the staff director for plays and productions hummed.

Cheri gave them a hopeful smile.

Iris came back from her trance and gave them a look that said, “Don't screw this up for me, will you? I don't need another disappointment in my life, for like ever.”

The director smiled. “Oh, alright—the Cheer Queens can use the auditorium for your production.”

Cheri cheered. “Yay! Thank you, ma'am!”

Iris grinned and chuckled to herself. “Yeah… thanks a lot...” She mumbled before she got the dreamy look in her eyes again.

“I feel inclined to warn you that because this is a student affair, you might not have access to all of the equipment and support you'd usually have when it's an official production.” The director explained. “Though teachers aren't forbidden from helping, good luck trying to find one with free time to do so.”

“Oh, that's okay, Ms. Thorne; we've got it all planned out and prepared, we really were just waiting to see if we could get the auditorium before finalizing things and getting things started for realsies!” Cheri replied.

Ms. Thorne smiled. “You Cheer Queens really want to make this show happen that badly, don't you?”

“Of course!” Cheri beamed. “It's what the Cheer Queens do—spread spirit, love, and camaraderie to all our fellow students and the world!”

Iris didn't reply, too busy dreaming up her performance and her future life once she finally got discovered by a talent agent for Hollywood that just happened to be in the audience.

The two Cheer Queens bid Ms. Thorne farewell and left the teacher's lounge.

“See you, Iris!” Cheri said before she went down one hall.

“Yeah, see you.” Iris said distractedly as she went down another.

By complete coincidence, Valerie fell out of a locker in Cheri's path. She spilled out on the floor gasping for breath, holding her jackknife picks close to her stomach to hide it from view. Being able to break in and break out of places was only so effective if people knew how you were doing it, after all.

She'd already slipped it down into her pockets before Cheri rushed over and picked her up. If she felt it, she probably mistook it for something else entirely or just didn't bother finding out.

“Woo, what time is it this week? Third?” Cheri asked as she brushed the dirt off Valerie.

“Fourth.” Valerie replied flatly. “There was supposed to be a fifth, but I got lucky.”

“Lucky you!” Cheri beamed. “Though, not so lucky the other times…”

The rest of the students continued their business as if nothing happened, now that they knew it was just Valerie.

Valerie spent a few moments with her eyes closed, getting her breathing and heart rate back down to normal, Cheri shut the empty locker she had been stuffed in.

“You gonna be okay, Val?” Cheri asked.

Valerie opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, I'm good, thanks.”

Cheri smiled back. “Okay! Oh, and also...” She leaned in and whispered in Valerie's ear a short version of the conversation with Ms. Thorne.

Valerie's smile turned into a grin.

“You still sure you don't want your name on the credits?” Cheri asked quietly as she pulled away.

“Nope, nothing at all; completely anonymous for me, thanks.” Valerie said, still grinning.


	26. Chapter 26

She dangled several stories up in the air, no harness, no flip-flops, no one but Neala and Sinclair to try and catch her if she fell.

The auditorium was pitch black, save for the light strapped to Valerie's head, dimmed till she could just barely see what she was doing.

No one was supposed to be in the auditorium right now. No one was supposed to be up in the ancient rigging constructed just above the modern scaffolding in the first place. No one was supposed to even be attaching anything to the old creaky, rusted, and aged metal.

But it was the only place her plan could work.

Valerie didn't think about falling. She didn't think about how the metal creaked and groaned every time she took a step. She didn't think about what would happen if the rungs just suddenly gave way and the whole thing came crashing down.

She only thought about attaching another quick release and remote receiver to the rigging, about throwing down the rope down to the stage and setting the winch so Neala could haul another payload up, about attaching the buckets and the boxes just so they would deploy properly when it was finally time.

But for the briefest moment, she thought about how she had gotten into this situation in the first place.

* * *

**_“The Middleburg Elementary (Unofficial) Talent Show!"_ **

_Produced by students, staffed by the students, performances by the students._

_Admission free, entrance fee minimal, (almost) anything goes._

_See posters, fliers, and our official Facebook page for details. Interested performers and acts, please contact Iris Lukov, Cheri Woolhearth, or Rosa Sinclair Flores._

There wasn't a bulletin board, a stretch of wall, or a classroom that didn't have a poster, a set of fliers, or a notice about the show. It was the event was on everyone's lips, and ironically or not, the attendance was going to be big.

Middleburg Elementary, like any sizable crowd of people, could not resist the opportunity to see a train wreck, an entertainingly lackluster performance, or a legitimately good show, all for free and right before their eyes.

“Lotsa folk seem pretty legitimately excited 'bout this!” Sinclair said as she and Valerie sat in her temporary office in the cafeteria, a table exactly like any other except Sinclair was the only occupant of one bench.

There wasn't any risk of anyone overhearing their conversation, even if it was right in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. The area had been chosen specifically because the neighbours were noisy, and didn't care about anything that was happening to any table except theirs. They could have been in a soundproofed room and nothing would be different, save the lack of white noise.

The guard Sandy had assigned was actually a Chiller, and others still were strategically planted nearby, all but confirming their complete security.

Valerie smiled. “Good, we'll want an audience. Speaking of which, how are those last minute preparations going?”

Sinclair frowned. “Uh, yeah, not so good… turns out, the kind of kids who'll do the job are a very specialized sort of breed. Not only do ya need someone skilled with their hands, is willing to break the rules, _a_ _nd_ has a blatant disregard for their own personal safety, they also have to be of a certain height and weight.” She paused. “Ya know, so they don't send themselves plummetin' to their doom soon as they get up there...

“So the going rate's a lot higher than any of us would like.”

Valerie grunted. “How much?”

Sinclair sighed. “Well, I'd say we're all the better if one of us goes and sticks ourselves four-five or so stories up in the air on rickety metal scaffolds that ain't been used since before we were born, but—y'all are going to do it, aren't ya, Valerie?”

Valerie smirked. “Depends. What's the maximum height and weight, exactly?”

* * *

The last mechanism had been set up. The rope and the winch had been dropped down, caught, and stashed away. All they needed to do now was pray the old scaffolding would hold for one last time, and get out.

Valerie's heart thudded in her chest. Bare feet made their way through the scaffolds as quickly and as quietly as she could, but every step brought about a creak, a whine, an ominous shift in the floor beneath her. She ducked past and under her work, backtracking till she came to her exit.

Neala and Sinclair followed suit, eyes glued to the old scaffolding and the tiny black figure running through them.

The rope was still there by the time Valerie came back. She pulled and tugged at the latches on her side, double-checked that it was secure, and that the rail it was tied to wouldn't break off anytime soon. She looked down at the modern scaffolding below, her only way back down.

She didn't look further down at the stage, several stories down below, only Neala and Sinclair to try to catch her or break her fall.

Valerie took a deep breath and grabbed the underside of the rope with both hands. She bowed her head past the gap in the railings, and looked up. She remembered something her daddy had told her:

“If you're going to think of anything in a crisis, think of what you're going to do next, not what'll happen if you don't.”

She shoved off, one foot at a time. Soon, she was dangling in the air once more, nothing but her hands, the rope, and the railings keeping her up. It was easier going back down to the modern railings, but the pressure was so much higher.

If they got caught before Valerie had set up the components and payloads, they could have passed it off as an adrenaline junkie's antics. If they got caught now, and they learned off the tampering and equipment they'd set up, a shake of the head, a lecture, and detention was probably going to be the _least_ of their punishment.

Her hand came up to the latch on the other side. Valerie swung a leg forward and her foot stepped on solid metal. One hand let go of the rope and grabbed onto the railings. With a powerful heave, she sent herself staggering back onto solid ground.

Valerie let go of the breath she had been holding. Her lips turned in a shaky smile. Down below, Neala and Sinclair both rushed up the stairs and to her. The latches were removed, the rope was coiled up and stowed away in Neala's backpack, the three of them rushed back down the stairs and out of the auditorium as quickly as they could.

They escaped through a side entrance. Besides no cameras—long ago stolen, wrecked, or just broken—there were no people, the hall rarely used for anything except hauling in the occasional prop or set piece that couldn't be moved through the larger side entrance.

Sweat poured down all three of their heads and soaked their clothes, a combination of nerves and physical exertion. Valerie didn't so much as run with her friends as they took an arm each, lifted her up, and carried her between them as they dashed even deeper into Middleburg Elementary's disused and unpopulated halls, until finally, they ducked into Sinclair's old office.

They stood in pitch blackness, the air and the smell of the forgotten supply closet so much worse now that Sinclair hadn't been there in quite a while. Neala and Sinclair finally lowered Valerie back onto the floor, and the three of them slumped against the wall, breathing hard with mixed expressions on their faces.

“Let us never do anything like that ever again...” Neala said as she let the bag full of evidence slip off her shoulders and down to the floor with an ungraceful thump.

“Agreed.” Sinclair mumbled. “Don't think my heart's stopped pounding just yet… everyone okay?”

“I'm good.” Neala said.

Valerie groaned pitifully.

Neala and Sinclair both frowned. “Val…?” Neala said as she gently shook Valerie.

Sinclair put her hand to Valerie's forehead. “Aw, stars above, Val, y'all are burning up!”

“Sinclair! Open the door, I'll carry her to the clinic.”

Valerie tried to protest, but all that came out was a pained whine. Her head started to throb, making it hard to think. She thought about the excuses, the lies, the alibis she would have to make and feed her parents, the others' parents, and the school, until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore.

* * *

She woke up in a hospital bed, an IV drip attached to her wrist, Agent Flaming-O nestled in the crook of her arm.

Valerie looked around—white walls, glaring lights, green curtains between her and the next bed, her mother sitting right beside her, looking like she hadn't slept for a while.

Valerie frowned and squeezed Agent Flaming-O, but only barely. Her arm felt weak, limp—everything did, alongside a throbbing in her head, and a feeling that someone had thrown her brain on a pan and put the stove on “Simmer.”

“Mommy…?”

“ **Stop.”** Sashi took a deep breath, and let it go very slowly. “Whatever it is the three of you did, tell me _later,_ alright? You're already grounded for a month— no TV, no internet without an adult supervising, nothing except doing your homework, sleeping, and however you can pass the time _without_ any electricity or going outside of our apartment.

“For now, you get better, alright? That's the only thing you're going to think about, until you we're wheeling you out of this hospital. Are we clear…?”

Valerie nodded.

Sashi sniffed. “Good.” She leaned forward and slowly, carefully wrapped her arms around Valerie in the barest of a hug, as if she were afraid the slightest mistake would shatter her in a million pieces.

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you too, mommy.”


	27. Chapter 27

Sandy walked up on stage and right into the spotlight. She waved, picked up the microphone, and hadn't even gotten a single word out before her life was ruined.

The paint fell first, a deluge of bright pink pouring right on her head, drenching her hair and ruining her beautiful dress. Everyone was speechless as the radiant star before them was suddenly covered head-to-toe in pink paint.

The glue followed suit. The feathers came as the laughter and screaming was building up and drowning out the teachers trying and failing to control the pandemonium. The mike as it hit the floor, the feedback and Sandy's panicked screaming piercing everyone's eardrums.

The PA system crackled to life and boomed:

_“Flaming-O Yeah!”_

Neala stopped the video just as the camera zoomed onto the human flamingo flailing and screaming on stage, ripping feathers off her body only to get them stuck in her hands. “It's really just ten minutes more of... that.” She explained as she put her tablet beside her as she sat on one side of Valerie's bed.

“There are other videos, but I don't think y'all want to see them...” Sinclair mumbled as she sat on the other.

“Sandy rushed off the stage and went straight home.” Neala continued. “No one really saw her for a couple of days after, but when she came back, well—”

“I'm back!” Sashi cried.

Neala quickly closed the video and switched to their decoy pages full of homework. The three of them looked as innocent as possible, forced smiles on their faces as Sashi walked back into their side of the room with sodas in the crook of one arm, a black coffee for herself in her hand.

“I swear, the people that make those vending machines and the hospitals have some sort of fixing going on, those prices are criminal...” Sashi mumbled as she set down the coffee on a nearby table and sorted through the rest of the drinks before carrying them over to the girls.

“Neala, your root beer.”

“Thank you.” Neala said as she took the can from Sashi.

“Sinclair, your soda with the name I can't pronounce.”

Sinclair smiled and eagerly twisted open the cap. “Thank ya kindly!”

Sashi looked at Valerie and smiled, pulling out a miniature box of Flaming-O's and a carton of milk from her pockets. “And for you, Valerie, a--”

Sashi's phone started ringing. She scowled, mumbled a quick excuse, and laid the box and carton down in Valerie's lap. She pulled out her phone, looked at the name, and sighed heavily.

Sashi shot Valerie an apologetic look, Valerie smiled and gave her a thumbs up. Sashi smiled before quickly shuffling out of the room.

Valerie left the snack-sized breakfast untouched. Though she wanted to tear into the box of Flaming-O's, she'd promised Sashi she wouldn't eat her first bowl in a week without her. Instead, she turned to Neala and wordlessly asked her to continue.

“It was bad. _Really_ bad.” Neala said. “Sandy was never the same, me and Sinclair tried to pick up the pieces, and the entire school was on high alert—teachers, Chillers, Players, what was left of Sandy's group.”

Valerie frowned. “Any casualties?”

“None to report, save a _lot_ of detentions and a couple of suspensions." Neala replied. "We got lucky the school wanted to keep it hushed and kill all the hype and interest.”

“Which ain't exactly the easiest thing to do, since ya don't even need to be in hearin' range to tell someone about it.” Sinclair added.

Their conversation was cut short by a very loud, _very_ angry yell—one all three of them distinctly knew was Sashi's, even with the walls muffling most of it and rendering the words unintelligible.

Conversation stopped. Neala and Sinclair quietly sipped their drinks, Valerie reached over to grab Agent Flaming-O off her perch on the nightstand, and the three of them waited, bracing themselves as one might for a tornado on a crash course to your house.

Sashi just barely kept herself from slamming the door open by the time she got back. Her hands were shaking, murder was in her eyes, most every muscle in her body was tense, like a wire strung too tightly, just a little bit more pressure before it snapped and sliced everything in its path.

Neala put herself between Valerie and Sashi. Sinclair huddled closer to Valerie, trying to get as much cover as she could behind Neala. Valerie squeezed Agent Flaming-O tightly.

Sashi picked up her coffee, and accidentally spilled some on her hand. She cursed and quickly set the cup back down on the table, before slapping a hand over her mouth, eyes darting over to the girls.

“I didn't hear anything!” Valerie cried. “Sinclair, did you?”

“Nope, nothin', just been silence here! Neala?”

“Nada.”

The four of them shared a look that spoke of an agreement every party could only accept, the details of which would be hashed out later, but would definitely involve Sashi owing all three of them a great service or expensive material goods in the near future.

Sashi ignored the throbbing red skin of her burnt hand and forced a smile on her face as she returned to Valerie's bedside. “So! Valerie, Flaming-O's, right?”

The three of them looked down at Valerie's lap. The carton of milk and the snack-sized box were still there, untouched.

Neala started scooting back with her tablet in hand. “Maybe you should go get the tray first, Mrs. Kobayashi!”

Sinclair reluctantly followed her her to make room, a tiny worried frown on her face.

Sashi nodded and turned to the side. “Yeah, tray! I'll get right on that...”

Soon, the tray was set, the box of cereal and the milk laid were out in front of Valerie along with a spoon from the hospital. Now all they needed to do was serve it.

Sashi picked up the box, and tried to tear it open along the dotted lines that would keep the sides intact. Flaming-O's, like every other cereal its company made, had a gimmick that if you tore open the snack size boxes right, it could act like its own bowl, so that all you needed to provide was a spoon and milk.

_Shcrip._

It met with mixed reactions, with how incredibly easy it was to ruin the box by accident.

Sashi's eye twitched as she stared at the torn and ruined cardboard in her hands. The plastic package of cereal fell down to the tray with a dull thump. Sinclair and Neala scooted further away if they didn't just hop off the bed entirely.

“Mommy!”

Sashi blinked. Her eyes immediately turned back down to Valerie.

Valerie smiled, calmly opened her little carton of milk, and a little tear on the side of the cereal packet. She shook out Flaming-O's onto the spoon, shoved it into her mouth, then took a sip of milk straight out of the carton. She smiled at her mother as she chewed.

Sashi smiled back.

* * *

**Welcome Home, Valerie!**

_(your month of being grounded starts today, by the way)_

Valerie still smiled as she saw that familiar banner with the piece of paper taped on the bottom. Grounded for a month or not, it was good to be back home.

Aside from her parents and her Uncle Boone, Neala and her father, and Sinclair and her grandmother had joined in on the party, too. Though the Kobayashis didn't have much in the way of food to serve up in case of guests, Sugar “just happened” to swing by with packaged meals from “one of those meals-on-wheels deals” specifically for people who wanted healthy food they didn't have to cook, and on the cheap.

Valerie herself ignored every single offering in favour of a large bowl of Flaming-O's. She sat at her usual chair at the kitchen table, shoveling spoonfuls of strawberry cereal into her mouth, and looking happy as can be. She tuned out all the conversation around her, like Sinclair and Sugar talking about the “meals-on-wheels” service in greater detail to Penn and Boone, until she just happened to see Mr. Harris and Sashi walking away from the kitchen to one of the unoccupied halls nearby.

She'd hadn't worked so long for Sinclair without learning how to tune out and distractions, and tune in on interesting conversation without looking suspicious. Her crunching slowed as she picked up bits and pieces of the conversation.

Mr. Harris was polite and kept his voice down, but fortunately, Sashi wasn't as subtle.

“Look, I understand why you're so hellbent on making up for your daughter's screw up, but don't just think it's okay to treat my family a charity case, alright?! We've been… getting by just fine without anyone else's help then, we're going to keep getting by just fine, with or without your help!”

Mr. Harris said something that sounded like an apology, before going back to a more neutral tone.

“ _Really_ now? Well… I might have taken a few karate classes, picked up some fighting moves from other styles… so long as you don't mind the fact that I don't have any professional certification.”

Mr. Harris chuckled. “The job interview's beating him in a one-on-one match, best two-out-of-three.”

Valerie could feel her mother smile despite the distance.

“Keep talking...”

* * *

“You look for Mr. Harris and Neala at the parking lot after school, okay?” Sashi said as she walked with Valerie on her first day coming back to school. “The gym's in one of the rougher parts of town—do _not_ go there alone.”

Valerie nodded. “Okay, mommy. Aren't I still grounded, though?”

“You are,” Sashi replied. “And part of your punishment is that I'm going to put you through the wringer. You want to train so badly? You're going to do it _properly,_ with _my_ supervision, and the right precautions, alright?”

Valerie smiled. “Thanks, mommy!”

Sashi chuckled. “Don't thank me yet, honey.” They stopped in front of the school, Sashi knelt down and gave her a hug. “Have a nice day, alright, Valerie?”

Valerie hummed. “I will, mommy. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

Sashi let go and ran off, waving goodbye over her shoulder. Being the new MMA instructor at Mr. Harris' gym wasn't her only job.

Valerie waved back, turned around, and came face-to-face with Therese.

The scowl was still on her face, but now it looked more worried than disdainful. “Hey, uh… you wouldn't happen to know anything about those Cereal Chiller guys, would you?” She asked.

Valerie resisted the urge to smile. She feigned fear and honest confusion, and shrugged.

Therese whimpered. She looked nervously over her shoulder, watching the crowds before her, any one of them potentially a Chiller.

“You want to head to class together?” Valerie offered.

Therese nodded, and the two of them set off.

Now all of the other students were outright avoiding her, not daring to even look at her, but Valerie didn't mind.

No one was bothering her, and that suited her just fine.


	28. Chapter 28

It was a completely average, normal day in Middleburg Elementary, students going to and fro from their classes and engaging in the usual antics and distractions kids their age were wont to, and that was exactly how Valerie knew things were absolutely _not_ okay.

The avoidance continued through all of Valerie's classes, people giving her wide berths in the halls, scooting their chairs away from her, and keeping their eyes firmly everywhere but her, which wasn't unusual.

What was was that there were absolutely no Chillers coming to her whatsoever. Usually, there would be a handful who only knew Valerie as the source for their boxes, not the head of the entire operation, but now they were all blending in and looking inconspicuous without any of the suspicious activity to cover up in the first place.

The point was really hammered in when she happened to pass by Neala, and the only thing Valerie got from her was a smile and a wave, nothing more.

“Neala, what's--?” Valerie whispered to her.

“I'll tell you at lunch.” Neala quickly whispered back, before she sped up for a moment and completely passed Valerie by.

Valerie resisted the urge to stop her. As soon as you made it look like you were talking about something important, whatever it actually was, people were inclined to listen in.

The rest of the day passed by without incident—or really, anything going on at all. The urge to stop someone and ask what was happening got stronger and stronger, but Valerie resisted them.

“I'll know at lunch.” Valerie repeated to herself as a mantra, till lunch came, and she ended up at her usual table, Neala waiting for on the opposite bench, Sinclair beside Neala.

Valerie set her bag down on the table and took her seat. She silently asked Neala to tell her what was going on.

Neala had only opened her mouth, before a certain girl entered and stopped them all dead in their tracks.

No one was paying her any attention, which was exactly why Valerie found her eyes glued to her. Gone were the stylish tops, the high class shoes, and the hip accessories; now she only wore a turned-up hoodie in a discrete, generic grey, scuffed and well-used sneakers, and a digital watch in generic black.

It was an outfit that was completely unremarkable except for one thing—the designer jeans that fit snugly over her figure.

She shuffled through the cafeteria, trying to find a place to sit, completely, absolutely ignored by every table she went to—no one looked at her, no one gave her a “No” of any sort, no one even acknowledged she even existed, like she was just a ghost.

Eventually, she ended up at Valerie's table.

Tears were in her green eyes, just barely held back. A few locks of curly black hair peeked out from underneath her hood, the rest of it easily hidden away with how close to her scalp it had been cut. Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling, and hollow.

“Can I sit with you guys?”

Valerie looked back to her friends on the other side of the table.

Neala shot her a look that spoke about the sheer depth of the issues they needed to discuss and fix.

Sinclair had suddenly found a keen interest in her phone.

Valerie turned back to Sandy.

“Sure.”

There were many more problems to worry about. There was the power vacuum left behind after Sandy abruptly abandoned her position. There was the heightened security and surveillance by the school, fueled by all the negative publicity and more than a few outraged parents. There was the external threat of the Players—now only a handful with an entirely different agenda—and the internal threat of the Cereal Chillers and the plethora of issues that had cropped up in the wake of the ill-fated talent show.

But right now, Valerie was concerned with only one problem.

Sandy's lips turned up in the barest of a smile. For a brief moment—about the time it took you to blink—there was a sparkle in her eyes. Then, she plunked herself down as far as she could from Valerie, stared at the table, and dug into her pockets.

Valerie watched as she pulled out a snack-box size of cereal. “Cuckoo Crisps.”

Sandy tore into the box without much fanfare, leaving the cardboard a mangled mess before she put her fingers on the packet of cereal.

Valerie's hand shot out and stopped her.

Sandy's eyes darted to her, wide-open with fright and dispair.

Valerie forced a smile on her face. “You might want some milk with that.”

Sandy looked at her in confusion. Valerie quickly opened her backpack and pulled out her own lunch—a snack-sized box of Flaming-O's, a plastic spoon, and a carton of milk, enough for one serving of cereal.

Sandy choked as soon as Valerie pulled out the box. Valerie ignored it, and slowly, carefully started tearing the box open by the dotted line. She slid the tiny cardboard bowl over to Sandy along with the milk.

Valerie looked at Sandy and gave another smile—this one less forced. Sandy smiled back, and it stayed there. She carefully tore open her packet, placed it in the box, and quietly shoveled spoonfuls of Cuckoo Crisps into her mouth.

Valerie looked at her packet of dry Flaming-O's, carefully tore a piece of the corner open, and started pouring it into her mouth.

She barely tasted any of it as she chewed.

* * *

They stayed over at the Harris' apartment after school—it was the most secure of all their homes. In hindsight, they realized how much of a bad idea that was.

“Hey! N'ala! Do you know anything about the Cereal Chillers?”

Sinclair and Valerie shuffled past the sisters, leaving the Neala and Tiana standing just inside their front door as always happened. Sinclair shot Valerie an apologetic look, Valerie nodded and waved her off. Sinclair disappeared into Neala's room while Valerie stayed in the hallway, hidden thanks to her size and the decorations.

Neala shrugged. “I don't know anything aside from what everyone else does, if you're asking.”

“Bully!” Tiana spat. “I know when you're lying, Neala! What do you know about the Cereal Chillers?!”

Neala scowled. “Why, is messing with them suddenly worth a lot of Points?”

Tiana flared up in a rage, her whole face turning red as she balled her fists. “THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE GAME, N'ALA! This is about what they did to Sandy!”

Neala nodded, her expression calm. “Yes, and?”

Tiana blinked. “Do you think that was funny?!”

Neala shook her head. “I think it's more along the lines of karma, actually.”

Tiana spluttered angrily. “Karma?! That thing the guys did--”

“Was perfectly fine because you did it to my _friend,_ who happens to be completely invisible on the social ladder, and _now_ it's not okay because someone did it to one of the most popular girls in school...?”

Tiana slowly raised her fists. Neala calmly raised her own and put herself into a boxing stance.

Tiana spun around and stormed away, her feet thundering on the floors. “There was a time when you'd _listen_ to me!”

“And there was a time when you weren't a sociopath!” Neala yelled back, fists still raised.

Tiana threw open her room door so hard it slammed into the wall. She slammed it shut behind her just as hard, the sound booming all throughout the apartment.

Neala unballed her fists. She slowly lowered her arms, dropped her shoulders, and put her feet back together.

Valerie stepped out of her cover, walked up to her, and held her arms out.

Neala grabbed her into a crushingly powerful hug for a few seconds, before quickly loosening it up enough for Valerie to breath. Her voice was shaky, her eyes close to tears.

“What happened, Valerie? What happened...?”

Valerie frowned and closed her eyes.

“I don't know, Neala. I don't know.”


	29. Chapter 29

Sirens were blaring. The whole of Marshmallow Dreams was on high alert, blast doors and bars falling all over the doors and entrances, guards pouring out of the barracks and swarming the property.

How Rippen and Larry ever managed to get the Milkman back to the Munch Monster's holding facility, Valerie would never know.

“You know? This reminds me of that time I tried to get the freshest hotdogs from the freezers at the supermarket!” Larry said as he and Rippen pushed the giant glass bottle on a cart along the catwalks.

Still semi-frozen from their trip to the Fridge, all Rippen could do was glare at Larry and keep pushing. If it was any consolation, his face was literally frozen in a scowl.

“I was reaching into the _deepest_ parts of the freezer section! I actually had to jump in there, and I was worried that I couldn't get back out, _but_ I wanted the _super_ fresh hotdogs more so I kept on going!” Larry continued, seemingly unaffected by the fact that his arms were frozen solid, fingers wrapped on the handle. “It got _really_ cold down there, but not as cold as the Fridge, and I was almost to the very bottom with all the freshest hotdogs, but then somebody pulled me out!

“'What'd you do that for? I was just trying to get the freshest hotdogs!' I said.

“Then the girl that pulled me out was like, 'Sir, we don't allow customers in the backroom freezers, please leave.' She was really nice about it, though, so I didn't mind that I had to go home with the _second_ freshest hotdogs!”

They kept pushing the cart until the glass bottle pushed up against the rail of the observation deck, about as close as they could get to Valerie without jumping down several stories below to an unpleasant fate.

The Milkman smiled at Valerie. Though all of him was frozen into a solid block, he could still move his eyes and make limited expressions.

“Well. Aren't _you_ a looker, friend.”

“Milkman!” Valerie cried, the Munch Monster's voice echoing in the vast chamber. “Me hungry!”

Valerie silently cursed this mission, cursed this body, and cursed the never-ending hunger that plagued it.

“I see, friend, but I don't get how that has anything to do with the good ole prison break-out we seem to be doing.”

“She has a plan and it involves you breaking her free!” Rippen explained. “How exactly you're going to do that, you'll have to take up to her!”

“Word of warning, though: the Munch Monster's always kind of had a problem with words, so it _may_ be difficult!” Larry cheerfully added.

As if that needed pointing out, Valerie thought bitterly. “MILKMAN! OUT!” She shouted, every word taking a gigantic effort, more than Valerie would have liked. The Hunger gave a never-ending supply of spoons, anything to further attempts to sate it, but security was getting closer and closer with each passing second.

“'Fraid you're going to have a hard time doin' that, friend! Even if our buddies here could reach up and open up my lid, unless you three happen to have a super-sized hairdryer or a lot of little ones, I'll still be stuck here!”

Valerie groaned—or rather, her almost perpetually empty stomach grumbled again. The Milkman was right, she needed some way of heating him back up to a liquid state…

Valerie forced herself as close to the observation deck as she could, and yawned her mouth open as wide as it could go. Hot breath poured out of her mouth, so awful it was visible as it soared up into the air.

Everyone caught onto the plan immediately, the Milkman most of all. Larry and Rippen started backing up as much as they could—they were going to need a running start.

“Uh, friends? I think I'd rather just stay in the bottle, thanks.” The Milkman said as the cart was wheeled as far backwards as it could go.

“Friends? D'ya hear me? I'll just stay _in_ the bottle! I'm sure we can figure out some way to get y'all out of here without me!” The Milkman said as the cart started accelerating.

“Friends? _Friends!_ I'll just stay in the--”

CRUNCH.

The railings flew apart as the cart came ramming through them, sending the Milkman, Larry, and Rippen on a straight course into Valerie's cavernous maw. Her numerous tongues shot out, the spoon-like tips catching Rippen and Larry and throwing them back up to the walkway, knocking the cart away, and making sure the Milkman and his bottle went straight into her mouth.

Valerie started chewing. The glass and the plastic cap was no match for the Munch Monster's teeth, quickly ground to a fine dust without even so much as scratching the inside of its mouth. The Milkman screamed the whole time, but Valerie didn't stop in her work, gargling and churning him in her cheeks until he was liquid again.

Valerie spat him out like a cannonball, right at one of the many chains holding her down. The chain quickly absorbed the Milkman till it turned soggy—Sir Crunch-A-Lots, for all their iron content, were still cereal. The chain came swinging down, still too far away for Valerie's mouth, but that was okay—she wasn't planning to eat it just yet.

Valerie's tongues grabbed onto the broken chain and started swinging it around. The iron-reinforced cereal started clattering and smashing into the others, a few of them breaking free and letting Valerie move more and more, enough to lunge forward and chomp off the rest.

Penn, Sashi, and Boone—as Choco Chuck, Agent Flaming-O, and the Be-Well Beaver—came rushing into the room just as Valerie scooped up Rippen, Larry, and the Milkman with her tongues. Chains and the collars were still all around her body, but it mattered little if they weren't attached to the walls.

She turned around and rammed into one of the walls as hard as she could. She thought it funny how she could breach the barricade so easily after just one ram. Her tongues casually reached up and threw the cereal debris into her mouth.

“Flaming-O _Yeah!”_ Sashi cried as she ran up to the edge of the observation deck and started shooting cereal at them.

The Flaming-O's harmlessly bounced off the Munch Monster's hide. That wasn't what made them so dangerous, however.

The Munch Monster's nose twinged. A single thought flashed through its mind:

“ _CEREAL.”_

Valerie recognized the familiar strawberry scent. A thought flashed through her mind, almost blotting out her hastily made plans of escape:

“ _CEREAL.”_

It took all of her willpower and then some not to turn around and face the barrage of strawberry cereal head-on—or rather, mouth-on. Valerie slowed for a moment, looking back to see Sashi jumping off the observation deck and flying down to the floor, stopping the volley of Flaming-O's for now.

The rest of the guards were also shooting cereal at her, but fortunately, they were using cheap King Corn Flakes as ammo. Though the Munch Monster lived by the philosophy that all cereal was good, some were just better than others, Valerie was a devout acolyte of the cult of sugar and colourful packaging.

They smashed straight through the exterior wall and out to the wilds. There were acres upon acres of cereal fields, just ripe for the harvest in the distance, but fortunately, the Flaming-O crops were in the opposite side.

Valerie stuffed all three of her cohorts into her mouth and jumped into a nearby river of milk. She sank to the very bottom in seconds, and started running off, upstream to the wilds.

* * *

For something that was bigger than a two-three story house, the Munch Monster could move disturbingly fast. While they owed most of their escape to Marshmallow Dreams already remote location, the speed that they lost all pursuers and disappeared into the yet untamed wilds of the dimension didn't hurt.

Valerie stayed in the river, just her eyes and her nose poking out of the milk while Rippen and Larry dried themselves on the shore, and the Milkman turned himself back into 100% fresh milk.

“Woo-wee! That was quite a great escape, friend; I have to thank y'all for getting me out of that Fridge.” The Milkman shuddered. “Not only was it cold in there, it was lonely and _boring,_ too.”

Valerie didn't reply. She didn't fancy milk rushing into her stomach again, and fortunately, the Munch Monster wasn't too excited about the “wild” all-natural grains that surrounded them, either.

“Yes, yes, I can see why you'd despise such quarters...” Rippen mumbled as he wrung out his black and white prison shirt. “However, the escape is only the beginning; we still have a long way to go until I rule this dimension.”

The Milkman chuckled. “Well, maybe it is for you, friend, but I'm afraid it's the end of the road for me.” He started stepping into the river, his body slowly becoming indistinguishable from the rest of it. “See, all that time in the Fridge gave me time to think, and I came to the conclusion: my freedom ain't worth anythin'.”

Rippen scowled and pounced at him. He only ended up going right through the Milkman's chest and back into the river.

“Goodbye, friends!” The Milkman smiled as he waded in waist-deep. “I'm sorry I can't stay for longer, but I wish y'all--”

The Milkman blinked. The current had suddenly changed. His eyes widened as he turned around and came face with Valerie's wide open mouth, milk getting sucked in by the gallons.

“Oh no, no, **no!”** The Milkman cried as he futilely tried to swim back to shore. _“Not again!”_

Rippen crawled back to shore and angrily spat out milk on the ground. He turned around and smiled as he saw Valerie standing up from the water, her belly and her cheeks brimming with milk, small bulges poking all over her hide.

“ _Help!_ It's _really_ gross in here, friend!” The Milkman cried as he tried to fight his way out.

Rippen chuckled as he stood back on dry land. “It seems the tables have turned, 'friend.'”

“Get me out! Please, I'll do anything!”

Rippen raised an eyebrow. “Anything…?”

“Yes, yes, yes! Just get me out of here! The _Fridge_ is better than this place!”

Rippen hummed and tapped his chin. “Will you help us take over this dimension?”

“ _Yes!_ That's what anything _means,_ doesn't it, friend?!”

Rippen grinned. “It's a deal. Valerie?”

What happened next was something all four of them had agreed to never speak of ever again.

The four villains went off deeper into the wilds, up to the Malt Mountain Range.


	30. Chapter 30

_C_ _runch_ _!_ Nom, nom, nom…

The Munch Monster slowly ate a tunnel through the Malt Mountain Range. Though it preferred cereal, it was perfectly content with eating raw ingredients, if no other choice presented itself.

Valerie likened it to an absurdly patient college student happy to eat plain ramen, so long as they had food. It was a surreal experience, something this large, this powerful, this destructive at peace, content, almost zen-like just eating.

Obviously, however, it couldn't last.

_BOOM!_

A giant explosion blew a new tunnel in the caves. The Munch Monster turned one of its eyes to the chaos while the other just kept on focusing on the next bit of mountain it was going to excavate and masticate.

Through the pinkish-purple haze of smoke, tons of colourful, exotic birds rushed in, almost all of them dressed up in smart suits, holding their cereal guns at the ready or hauling in chains and collars made of Sir Crunch-A-Lots.

Valerie scowled. Agents of CEREAL, the Coalition of Enforcers, Regulators, Engineers, Artisans, and Lawyers. And where there was CEREAL…

“Flaming-O _Y_ _eah!”_ Sashi cried as she came flying in, gun blazing strawberry cereal. Penn and Boone came shortly after, helping the other CEREAL agents haul in and man the Berry Blast catapults.

The cereal ammunition didn't hurt, and just harmlessly bounced off as it did like earlier. Not even direct hits from the berry bombs could hurt the Munch Monster. But also like earlier, they could do something _far_ worse.

The colourful clouds of exploded Berry Blast filled the cavern. Every breath the Munch Monster took sent sweet, fruity aromas straight up its nose and rocketing to its brain, until there was only one thought on its mind:

“ _ **CEREAL!”**_

Chunks of half-eaten mountain flying out of the Munch Monster's mouth. It quickly charged towards the CEREAL agents' with their guns and catapults, catching the bombs in its mouth or with its tongues before flicking it right in.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

The Munch Monster's stomach being a vast, empty space, the explosions did not hurt one bit, like detonating a bomb deep in the ocean. It only burped from time to time, letting pink-blue-purple coloured clouds in the shape of the berry bombs complete with lit fuse-stems, before devouring more cereal.

Agents dove or flew out of the way. Catapults and trucks full of Berry Blast were abandoned as the Munch Monster attacked them, destroying the metal and the fiber to get at the delicious cereal inside. It ran into Sir Crunch-A-Lot chains and collars, but it barely felt it; most of them broke off from the force, but the few that did latch on stayed.

Orders were quickly barked as the remaining catapults and trucks were repositioned, the engineers careful not to spill any milk on their explosive payload. CEREAL agents rushed to set up new chain and collar traps for the Munch Monster to run into as the others prepared another volley of cereal to bait it there.

Valerie tried to wrest control of the body, but the Munch Monster's impulse to eat cereal was too strong; there was just no stopping it once it got into a feeding frenzy.

She took command of an eye and assessed the situation. The CEREAL agents' plan was working: the Munch Monster was too concerned with the far better Berry Blast to even worry about the Sir Crunch-A-Lots holding it down again, and if its movements were getting slower and slower, till it gradually ground to a halt. And if it did? Well, it realized that the Not Cereal was flinging it right into its mouth anyway, it was only a matter of “when” it could eat it, not “if.”

The Berry Bomb catapults kept on flinging. From what little Valerie could see of the area, they had come prepared with several dozen trucks of Berry Blast and catapults, and more still were getting hauled in to replace the empty ones. She thought of launching the berry bombs back at them, but the trucks were covered in numerous layers of protection, and the CEREAL agents had come prepared with mobile blast shields to be set up on a dime.

Valerie groaned, and watched her host catching the cereal in the air with its tongue with its mouth then flicking it in… then she saw brown dust, raining down from above amidst all the colourful clouds filling the air. She looked up and saw the ceiling shaking and quaking, loose rocks and fragile sections breaking apart and falling to the ground.

Back in her home dimension, Berry Blast berry bombs were about the size of peas and when exposed to milk caused a musical “pop-pop!” When it was the size of a boulder, it turned into a “Boom!”

Enough to rattle the cave just from the shockwave alone, let alone from a direct hit.

The Munch Monster caught a berry bomb on one of its tongue. Valerie took control of it and flinged the cereal upwards. It exploded close to the ceiling, cracking a good chunk of it, sizable shards and hunks of malt raining down from above.

Agents of CEREAL looked up and scrambled to avoid getting crushed. The salvos of Berry Blast kept on flying even as it was clear the Munch Monster was using it against them now. It was hard to stop a repeated firing of Berry Blast, all of the engineers working on automatic given the uncomfortably short fuse time before the explosion.

Hesitate once, and you could end up blowing yourself and everyone else to colourful bits.

The Munch Monster ran through another mesh of Sir Crunch-A-Lots, but now, only one chain managed to latch itself on its person, the rest of them breaking away or trampled underfoot.

It was happy as could be, in contrast to the chaos around it. The cereal shooting didn't stop, neither did the flying Berry Blast; though it was unhappy at the loss of the ones Valerie was tossing up into the ceiling, it was fine that it got extra bits of malt chunks in its mouth in exchange, a fair deal if it ever saw one.

“Stop firing! _Stop firing!”_ Sashi cried as the cave started to rattle and groan all on its own, bigger and bigger chunks of malt raining down from above. “RETREAT! _**NOW!”**_

Agents abandoned their their formations and their Sir Crunch-A-Lots as they all flew, ran, and slid on their bellies back to the entrance as fast as they could. The Berry Blast engineers flung their last salvo before they abandoned their catapults and their trucks to their fate.

All of CEREAL had gone into a full-retreat. Valerie saw glimpses of Penn, Sashi, and Boone rushing in and of the fast collapsing cave, hauling out agents that had been trapped under the falling debris or frozen in fear.

Valerie wanted to help them. She wanted to make sure that all of these agents would make it out of this mission alive.

But more importantly than that, she had a job to do.

The Munch Monster was lagging now, but still fast enough to make it to an abandoned truck of Berry Blast. One chomp, and all those layers of protective metal was turned into mangled scrap, revealing an almost full load of Berry Blast.

By complete accident, the Munch Monster broke a nearby tank of milk, sending its contents spewing out a crack on the side and raining right onto the berry bombs.

Boom.

* * *

 _Crunch!_ Nom, nom, nom…

There was no stopping the Munch Monster.

 _Crunch!_ Nom, nom, nom…

They had tried to poison it. They had tried to hurt it. They had tried to trap it.

 _Crunch!_ Nom, nom, nom…

You could make it sick. You could make it flinch and whimper. You could put it down in the deepest depths of the milk sea; Marshmallow Dreams Maximum Security Prison most secure wing; or under hundreds of thousands of feet of what _was_ a mountain.

 _Crunch!_ Nom, nom, nom…

It would recover soon enough, and gradually gain an immunity to the poison. It would walk away with only a scratch, at best. And it would always, always, _always_ come back.

 _Crunch!_ Nom, nom, nom…

And once it did, it would only have one thing on its mind:

“CEREAL.”


	31. Chapter 31

The Cereal Dimension was in chaos.

Farmers struggled to harvest their crops early, trying to truck it off to secure storehouses far away from the fields, working as fast and as hard as their bodies and their machines could.

The part-time heroes and the agents of CEREAL prepared traps, built up barricades, and hurriedly discussed plans if they weren't already fighting Rippen, Larry, and the Milkman. The villains had launched a three-pronged assault involving sabotaging the roads, breaking the machines, or drowning fields of ripe, crispy cereal with milk and turning them soggy.

And this was all _before_ Valerie arrived at the scene.

* * *

She had tried to reason with the Munch Monster.

“Cereal.”

She had tried to get it to content itself with the mountains of malt still left uneaten.

“ _Cereal!”_

She had tried to remind it that there was a plan, there were orders they were supposed to be following, that ultimately, Rippen was the boss for the moment, not the Munch Monster.

“CEREAL!”

Then it saw the fields of cereal crops in the distance, all ripe and ready, trucks carting them off; huge, grayish acres of fallow land and soggy cereal; and hundreds of Not Cereal harvesting it and lugging it off to said trucks, if they weren't building barricades around the fields—ones that could delay it long enough for them to harvest most of the crop.

More than the Munch Monster loved eating cereal, it hated being _denied_ cereal.

And more than the Munch Monster hated being denied cereal, it absolutely despised, with all of its being, cereal that had been left to turn _soggy._

They stepped foot into beginning of the cereal fields, crops for specialty uses or industrial applications like Sir Crunch-A-Lots, Berry Blast, or King Corn flakes. These were situated on the outer regions, on the less fertile and farther away land, their crop being especially resilient to most conditions, requiring special facilities that would take up a lot of space, or simply not being as popular or important as the crops closer to the heart of the fields.

In but a few minutes, the Munch Monster had consumed it all.

They moved onto the less popular, but still important cereal crops, the ones that were frequently used as fuel, important supplements to diets and medical care, or just an everyday food that had a smaller but no less devoted fanbase.

Because Dr. Delightful, Calci-Crunch, and Cuckoo Crisps weren't as loaded with fiber or iron as the earlier fields, the Munch Monster made even quicker work of them, helped along by the influx of essential vitamins and minerals that made its appetite even bigger.

It stopped by a river of milk to wash down the metallic and woody aftertastes. Much as the Munch Monster was constantly hungry, it took pleasure in its food, too—and when it came to its favourites, it liked to prepare itself to enjoy them as much as possible.

And said favourites were the very last, and the largest acres of cereal crops—the staples. By virtue of being a part of almost every Cereal Dimension citizen's breakfast, well-balanced or not, they were planted on the most fertile land, situated right beside the largest milk irrigation streams, and received the most care and attention during planting, the harvest, and _especially_ during an emergency.

Among them: Choco Choco Trunks, Flaming-O's, and the much less beloved but no less important Kale Flakes.

So it was to the Munch Monster's great dismay that most of these crops had already been long harvested and carted off, barricaded and protecting immature or imperfect crops, or just ruined, destroyed by erratic driving, malfunctioning machinery, or just drowned in a flood of milk.

Still, there were some patches leftover. The Munch Monster didn't even consider the suspicious formations—like the fact that many of those patches of cereals were in the shape of a trail, or set out on a neat, obviously manufactured pattern.

It did to Valerie, and she tried her best to find Larry, Rippen, or even the Milkman, tried to find some way to wrest control of this body and get the mission back on track. But all she could do was take over an eye, maybe nudge the Munch Monster's head to the side, and when it was eating cereal, all she could only wait and watch it do what it was made to do:

Eat to the very last bit of cereal, drink to the very last drop of milk.

Eventually, it came to a full crop of Flaming-O's, ripe and crunchy, ready for harvesting and yet here it was, still in the fields.

The Munch Monster thought it Nirvana. Valerie saw it for what it was: a trap. She tried to take control again, but after all the deprivation, the teasing tidbits, the tasty but ultimately unsatisfying trails and patches of earlier, all it wanted to do was pig out, and here was its opportunity.

The Munch Monster had only yawned its mouth open when the sprinklers suddenly drenched it and the nearby crops with milk.

It let out a roar and tried to eat it anyway.

_Chomp!_

Its eyes opened wide and it quickly flung out its mouthful.

“SOGGY!”

It dashed to the next available patch of cereal, the sprinklers drowned it and ruined it just before it could get in its mouth.

“STILL _SOGGY!”_

The Munch Monster roared even louder, disgusting flecks of milk and crumbled, wet bits of cereal flying out of its mouth as it came to the last patch of cereal crop.

They didn't even bother to wait for it to come close before they activated the sprinklers and drowned the very last of the crops, turning the ripe and crunchy Flaming-O's soggy and ruined.

Valerie felt an especially painful pang in her metaphorical heart, while a very different kind of emotion filled the Munch Monster's cavernous stomach.

“WHY _ALL_ _ **SOGGY?!”**_

The Munch Monster angrily stomped about in the ruined fields. It only got madder as it got soggy, squishy cereal stuck between its toes, and milk started splashing and spurting up its legs. It roared at the sky, stomping even harder, making craters in the ground, flinging wet ground and grayish, crumbly goop everywhere.

“Hey! Munch Monster!” Sashi cried. “We've got your cereal right here!”

The Munch Monster turned to her.

The agents of Cereal were back, Sashi, Penn, and Boone at the forefront with new catapults, new trucks, and a new cereal being used as ammunition.

They fired, the Munch Monster ran right towards the volley. It didn't occur to it that there would be anything suspicious about the blue and white cereal in the shape of sheep, pillows, and moons.

Valerie tried to warn him that they were launching Beddy Bye Bites. She tried to force it to veer away from the line of fire, to keep his mouth closed, to turn around, run across several ruined fields and to the cereal crops that they still hadn't eaten, that the farmers still hadn't protected.

But those crops were way over _there_ , and the Beddy Bye Bites were already _here_ , and the Munch Monster, was going to take the easier option.

It opened its mouth wide, devouring all of the first barrage. With cereal back in its mouth, it started running towards the catapults even faster, making it easier and easier for the agents to launch more Beddy Bye Bites into its mouth, till they all had to scatter to avoid getting crushed alongside the catapults and the trucks.

The Munch Monster destroyed the catapults, mangled the trucks, and started eating every last Beddy Bye Bite where it could find it. Valerie quietly watched it, letting it assume full-control, turning a blind eye to its actions.

She didn't want to watch the mission and her career as a part-time monster go down the drain.

Some time later, the Munch Monster's massive body hit the dirt, and it and Valerie drifted off to a hurried, peaceful slumber.

* * *

Valerie woke up blinded by the red energy of the MUT. Zapping to and from dimensions was not something you could sleep through.

Gladys was waiting at her usual spot, manning the zap lever from behind the counter. The MUT Technician smiled at her, Valerie looked down at the floor and frowned.

“If you're still feeling peckish after all that, love, there's tons of fish sticks on a stick that still haven't gone bad in the backroom. 'Fraid that doesn't do much for the taste, though.”

Valerie sighed as her feet hit the platform, the red circles underneath her still glowing.

“Something the matter, love?”

Valerie looked up at Gladys, her expression flat. “I'm sorry I screwed up.”

Gladys smirked. “Oh, love, one of the keys to success is to realize winning isn't everything. Sure, we villains lost—again—but what the heroes just won is what we in the business call a 'Pyrrhic Victory'; the bad guys are stopped, the day is saved… but it's going to take them a helluva long time to grow all of those crops back and handle that damage, eh?” She gestured to the portal.

The images of Cereal World were still on-screen. Valerie felt a part of her die inside as she saw the sheer devastation and chaos she'd helped cause, miles upon miles of ruined crops and farming grounds left broken and torn from, dozens of machines and valuable equipment turned into smoking, flaming scrap.

The panels slid shut, the MUT powered down, and the red circles underneath her feet stopped glowing.

Valerie didn't look back at Gladys as she made her way out the door and to the bus stop.

* * *

Valerie got home first. She walked into her room, sat at her desk, and immediately busied herself with her homework. She finished everything that needed to be done tomorrow, the rest of the homework she had, then started making notes and did some advanced reading on things she might be given homework on in the future.

Knock-knock-knock.

Valerie looked up from her computer and the few bits of hand-written notes she'd made. She looked to the door and debated answering her father—he was the only one that knocked three times like that.

“Heyyy, Val? You awake? I got a surprise for ya! Here's a hint: Flaming-O Yeah!”

Valerie choked. She prayed to the Forces That Be that her father wouldn't come in and see her wide awake.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“ _The time now is—7 o'clock PM.”_

Valerie scowled and hoped the Forces That Be had a good, long laugh at her expense as she shut off the alarms of her two watches.

It was time for the Purple Pony—a new medication that specifically needed a full stomach.

She saved her work, bookmarked pages, and shut down her computer. She hauled herself out of her set and went up to the door, forced a smile, and opened it.

Somehow, even after all that happened, her smile turned genuine as she saw her father holding two economy sized boxes of Flaming-O's with a snack box thrown in.

“They were having a special at the grocery store!” Penn explained. “So if you want to have Flaming-O's for breakfast and lunch tomorrow, and dinner tonight, it's A-okay with us!”

Valerie tried to stop herself from clutching her stomach at the thought of eating Flaming-O's. She suppressed most of it, but Penn saw her hand dart up before quickly falling back at her side.

Penn frowned. “Something wrong, Val?”

“Just…” Valerie paused. “I'm fine with Flaming-O's tomorrow, not tonight.”

Penn's frown grew deeper. “Are you _sure_ you're alright?”

Valerie nodded, quickly shuffled past her father, and went into the kitchen.

She wasn't hungry in the slightest but she had medication to take.


	32. Chapter 32

_Cereal farmers on their knees, weeping into their paws and wings while their ruined fields stretched out for miles before them._

Valerie woke up in a cold sweat. She looked around the darkness of her room, down at Agent Flaming-O, and whimpered. She hugged the toy closer to her body, and went back to sleep.

_CEREAL agents warily raising their guns towards a mob—hundreds of thousands of civilians and farmers with empty bowls in their hands, shouting, begging, crying for food._

Valerie woke up again. She warily put Agent Flaming-O on her night table. Then she slowly turned her around till she was facing the far wall.

_Chains on her arms, chains on her legs, a collar around her neck. The doors to the Fridge, wide open, thick tendrils of frost pouring out from inside and covering the floor in a freezing fog. Someone kicked her in, her face met the icy ground, her skin burned as it fused with the ground._

“ _Flaming-O Yeah! **THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!”**_

_SLAM!_

Valerie woke up clutching all four corners of her bed tightly, eyes bloodshot and turned to the ceiling. Her clothes and her sheets were drenched in sweat. Every breath came out staggered and pathetic, as if she was scared to make even the slightest noise.

She hauled herself out of her bed. She threw off her ruined sheets and changed into fresh clothes. She sat herself down on her computer, went back to her half-finished notes, and resumed studying.

* * *

Valerie staggered out of her room, hair an even curlier and uncontrolled mess than usual, eyes sore from staring at a screen for several hours, fingers twitching nervously from so much typing, clicking, and writing.

She shuffled to the kitchen, somehow poured herself a bowl of Flaming-O's without breaking anything, though she did tear open the box, rip a too large gash in the plastic bag, and spill quite a few bits of strawberry cereal and milk.

Her parents weren't around for breakfast. Penn was off to one of his early morning jobs, Sashi was sleeping the whole morning away, till it was time to get ready for her afternoon jobs.

Valerie left her empty bowl into the sink. She cleaned up the spills—somehow—took her morning medication, slung her bag on her shoulders, and stumbled out of the house and to the elevator.

She was still a zombie by the time she left her front door and came up to the car, Neala and Sinclair worriedly eying her from inside.

Valerie gave a half-hearted grunt in greeting, and started grappling for the backseat car door, her fingers grabbing empty air or banging on the metal. Sinclair shuffled across the back seat and opened it for her.

“Thanks.” Valerie said, before she all but tumbled into the car, falling face first into Sinclair's lap. “Sorry.” She mumbled into her skirt.

Sinclair patted her on the head, and closed the door with the other. “The Sam Hill happened to you, Val?” She said as she pulled her friend up and buckled her in.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Valerie said, her voice hollow.

Neala frowned at her through the rearview mirror. “You _sure_ you don't want to take a sick day? Have us help you back into your place? … Drive you to the hospital...?”

“School.” Valerie's voice shook. _“Please.”_

Neala reluctantly pulled out of the curb and off to Middleburg High. Sinclair dug into her bag and pulled out her grooming kit.

“Let's get you cleaned up, Val...” She mumbled as she tried to tame Valerie's hair.

Valerie just stared straight ahead, dumbly following Sinclair's requests.

* * *

The ride to school was quiet, a disturbing rarity. Neala didn't talk to focus on the road and potential speed bumps and other cars, Sinclair didn't talk to focus on fixing up Valerie's appearance, and Valerie didn't talk because she'd fallen dead asleep—not even Sinclair applying some make up to hide her eyebags and the redness in her eyes could wake her up.

They stopped by a Kooky Cup drive-thru on the way there, picking up a triple espresso “Coffee of the Dead” and a “Flaming-O Fiesta” box of doughnuts. Neala slowed her driving while Sinclair held both under Valerie's nose like you would smelling salts.

Valerie slowly stirred awake, before her hands darted into the box and crammed one of the pastries into her mouth. She tore at it ravenously, caring for little but getting more of the strawberry flavoured goodness into her mouth.

Sinclair held the coffee to her lips, Valerie took a sip. Her eyes flew wide open as it torched her tongue and throat, smacked the rest of her brain awake. Back in the doughnut went to counteract the bitter taste.

It only took less than five minutes for Valerie to drain the last of the coffee, bean sediment and bottom-of-the-cup gunk and all, before cramming the very last doughnut into her mouth. Sinclair crumpled the cup and tossed the box away to a corner for later while she waited for Valerie to finish.

Valerie sighed happily, completely awake and riding a sugar-and-caffeine buzz that'd last her till lunch. “Thanks, guys… I needed that.”

“Don't thank us yet, sweetie,” Sinclair said. “You still owe us for this.”

Valerie nodded. “Hit me.”

“Why exactly are y'all a zombie right now?”

Valerie blinked, and frowned. “I said I don't want to talk about it!”

“Well, shame that the Kooky Cup doesn't do refunds!” Neala said as she turned a corner.

Valerie sighed. “I can't just pay cash, can I?”

Sinclair slowly shook her head. “Enough dilly-dally, spill!”

Valerie closed her eyes. “I was up all night studying.” She said calmly.

“For _what?”_ Sinclair asked. “Last I remember, midterms just got done.”

Valerie squeezed her eyes tighter shut. “Just… studying, alright?”

“Tryin' to skip a grade again? 'Cause ya already caught up to me and N'ala, 'member?”

Valerie groaned. “No, I know, I just... needed a distraction. I had a _really_ bad day at work, is all...”

“So stayed up all night _studying..._?” Neala asked.

Valerie scowled at her through the rearview mirror. “I thought I might do something more productive than having an impromptu cartoon marathon by myself, thanks.”

“Besides, these days, they to remind me too much of work.” Valerie left out.

Sinclair narrowed her eyes at Valerie. “The Sam Hill happened in that grease pit ya have to call your workplace, Val?”

“I can't tell you, remember? You read my contract, you saw the NDA!”

“Well forgive me if I care more about my friend than some stupid corporation and their chain of awful restaurants!” Sinclair's face was suddenly wracked with worry. “What is going _on_ in there, Val?!”

Valerie stared intently out the window. “I man the cashier. I help make fish sticks on sticks. Sometimes, I help move boxes or clean it up. That's it.”

Neala turned the wheel hard and parked the car at the nearest available spot. She killed the engine, leaned out of her seat, and looked at Valerie.

Valerie stared even harder out the window, tried to keep her face from giving away her nervousness.

“Valerie. _Please._ We're your friends—you can tell us anything! We're for you!” Neala said.

“Just like you were for us.” Sinclair said softly, putting a hand on Valerie's shoulder as she smiled at her.

Valerie teared up. She sucked in a breath, before she turned back to her friends.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

_The time now is—8:15 o'clock AM._

Neala cursed and turned the car back on. Sinclair and Valerie both held onto their seats as Neala gunned the engine as fast as she could towards their school.

* * *

They just barely made it to homeroom, and that was with jumping out of the car and running full-tilt from the parking lot.

Valerie waved a hasty goodbye before she disappeared into her homeroom, Neala and Sinclair doing the same as they rushed to their own classroom two doors down.

Valerie dropped into a free seat, out-of-breath and sweating, but happy she'd avoided both second bell and talking to her friends.

Neala and Sinclair cast each other meaningful looks as their homeroom teacher started making announcements.

Asking Valerie about the Fish Stick on a Stick was going to have to wait till lunch, or after school when they hung out at Neala's place at the worst.

Good thing they had other friends who could get them the information they needed.


	33. Everybody's Looking For Something

> _6 years ago..._

“You sure you're going to be fine by yourself, mama?” Rosemary asked. “Ya aren't as young as ya used to be, you know!”

Sugar waved her daughter off. “Oh, I haven't lived this long without learnin' how to take care of myself, sweetie—I'll be fine!”

“Well then take Rosa with you, then, to keep you company.” JR said, holding out the tiny bundle in his arms.

Fast asleep, Sinclair barely stirred.

Sugar paused, her eyes darting from her granddaughter, to her daughter, then to her son-in-law. “Y'all _sure_ about this?”

Rosemary chuckled. “Well, y'all have been beggin' for some alone time with your gran'daughter for a while now, so why not?”

“Besides, it'll give us some alone time, just the two of us. Haven't had _that_ for a while now, either.” JR smiled.

Sugar carefully took her granddaughter into her arms and smiled back. “Still those same two kids doin' anythin' to get away from me, I see.”

“Old habits die hard, as they say.” Rosemary said.

“Besides, no point in not being the man she fell in love with first and foremost.” JR continued as he looped his arm around his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

Sugar shook her head. “Oh, just go on and start plannin' this second honeymoon of yours, I'll go get lil' Sinclair here ready to go with me.”

“Ya sure ya don't want us to help ya out?” Rosemary asked.

Sugar smirked. “Sweetie, if I'm gon' be takin' care of my gran'daughter alone for the next three days, I better get used to it now!”

JR laughed. “Can't fault your logic, as usual.”

“I make it a point to keep my mind sharp. Now enough chitter-chatter, off you go you two!”

Rosemary and JR looked at their daughter, then back at each other, silently sharing a message. The two of them looked back at Sugar, now cradling Sinclair in the crook of her arm.

“Goodbye Rosa, mama.” Rosemary said sadly.

JR smirked. “Not 'goodbye,' Maria—see you two later in three days!”

“Yes, yes, see y'all later! Now git! Time's a wastin'!” Sugar turned around and left her daughter and her son-in-law in the living room, going into the master bedroom to fetch Sinclair's things.

Sugar set her daughter down in her crib, an elegant wicker weave that could rock side to side, a local product the hotel was all too proud to include for free—and mention that they could buy a brand new one for a very good price. She set herself to work filling the baby bag up with the diapers, the clothes, and powders that had been set out.

Sinclair stirred awake. She blinked, looking up at the ceiling, writhed and turned around in her crib, frowning as she didn't feel or see her parents or her grandmother nearby. She started crying, Sugar hastily stuffed a bottle of powder into the bag before rushing over and picking her up, quickly rocking her in her arms.

“Shh, shh, shh!” Sugar cooed. “It's alright, lil' Sinclair; granny's here, granny's here...”

Sinclair's crying slowed as she nuzzled against her grandmother.

Sugar sighed. “Oh, your parents _really_ weren't kiddin' when they said you couldn't be left alone for long!” She smiled down at her grandaughter. “Don't you worry, though, granny's going to be right here for ya...”

Sinclair smiled, closed her eyes, and fell fast asleep once more.

“Woo!” Sugar whispered. “Good thing I can do this as well as your mama or your papa, cause you and I are gonna be spendin' a lot of time together, just the two of us, yes we are...~”

* * *

_Six years later..._

“What's this?” Valerie asked as Sinclair handed her and Neala cards at their lunch table.

“Invitations to my birthday party this Sunday!” Sinclair explained. “That there card entitles you, two members of your immediate family, and a guest to the buffet, the games, and since you're both VIPs, a slice of my birthday cake each. And trust me, y'all are not gon' want to miss out on that cake!”

Neala and Valerie looked down at the simple cards with the elaborate designs on the borders and the headers. Valerie whistled. “Swanky place. Mansion not big enough?”

“Really more of a convenience issue, Val; hotel's already got the equipment to roast whole animals and the staff to handle all of the fancier foods on the menu. Oh, and before y'all ask: N'ala, Tiana gets a free pass, since y'all are twins and all, but don't forget I have the right to boot your behinds out when I want to.”

Neala nodded. “We'll keep her reigned in.”

“Also, my parents are gon' to be present, so I'd like y'all to be on your best behaviour! Ain't a black tie event by no means, but it ain't no tuxedo shirt gig, either; besides that, first impressions are everythin'!”

“Gotcha!” Valerie said. “So, they flying in for your birthday, the weekend, or they already here?”

Sinclair winced. Valerie's smile stayed on her face for a second before it quickly fell in horror. Across the table, Neala shot both her friends sympathetic looks.

“No.” Sinclair said flatly. “They'll be on webcam. Just like last year...” She forced a smile on her face. “Anyway, gifts are optional, and cash ain't taboo, no ma'am~!”

“Someone having a party?”

All three of them turned to see Sandy walking up to their table--or, as she preferred to be called these days, Elise. Her hoodie for this day was a subdued red.

Sinclair kept on forcing her smile. “Yes, actually! It's my birthday this Sunday, and I was just discussin' it with Val and N'ala over here.” She gestured to them, her hand level with the cards they were holding.

Elise perked up. “Can I get an invite?”

Sinclair sucked in a breath. “Sorry, no can do, all outta 'em; nothin' against ya, but if everyone in my family tried to squeeze in one more guest, we're gon' need a _much_ bigger place to hold it in.”

Elise frowned. “Oh. Okay. Have fun you guys.” She joined Valerie on her bench and pulled out her lunchbox.

“Thank ya kindly!” Sinclair said, trying to hide her relief.

Valerie frowned, looking at the invite in her hands then back to Eli. She turned back to her lunch and caught a glimpse of Neala. Her lips turned up in a smile.

Sinclair saw and her smile slowly fell.

“Hey, Sinclair, Tiana gets a free pass, right?” Valerie asked casually, a cocky smile on her face.

Sinclair shot her a murderous glare. “Yes, o' course! Ain't fair to leave a twin out the festivities; not their fault they come as a package deal, after all!”

Valerie turned to Neala. Neala started, her eyes worriedly darting between her friends. Elise rested her hands on the latches of her lunchbox, watching the events unfolding before her.

“N'ala! You mind doing me a _huge_ favour and taking my Uncle Boone as your guest?”

Neala and Sinclair turned to each other.

“Please no.” Sinclair mouthed.

“I'm sorry.” Neala mouthed back.

Neala turned back to Valerie. “Sure.”

Valerie looked back at Sinclair, still smiling. “You don't mind if I take Eli as my guest, do you?”

“Not at all, sweetie.” Sinclair said through gritted teeth. Above the table, all goodwill and cheer in her eyes was gone; beneath the table, her nails dug into her skirt.

“Great, thanks!” Valerie turned to Elise. “Well…?”

Eli shot all three of them looks of disbelief, all while trying her best not to smile or snigger. She turned back to Valerie and smiled. “I'd love to.”

The rest of their lunch passed in tense silence, all four of them acting as they usually did without the conversation. Valerie and Sinclair looked each other dead in the yes. The silent message they sent each other was clear:

There'd be a reckoning later this afternoon.


	34. Chapter 34

“Look, if it bothers you that much, why don't you just take your invitation back so you won't have to deal with me or Eli?”

Sinclair squeezed her eyes shut. She slowly counted to ten, nails digging into her palms, every breath seething.

Valerie stood three feet away from her, calmly holding out the card. “I don't mind; I'm sure you've got other friends that'd want this.”

Sinclair opened her eyes and glared at Valerie. “Keep it.” She spat. “Now get out.” She wordlessly added.

Valerie nodded once. “Thanks.” She spun on her heel, and calmly marched out of Sinclair's room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“I'm right here if you need to vent.” Neala said as she sat cross-legged on Sinclair's bed.

“Thanks but no thanks, N'ala.” Sinclair grumbled as she stalked to her desk and sat down in front of her computer. “Just lock the door for me, will ya?”

Neala hopped off, strode across the room, and did so.

With the reassuring clicks of the doorknob lock, the chain, and the bolt all sliding into place, Sinclair started revealing hidden files on her computer, pulling out secret compartments in her drawers, entering passwords to programs that logged her into things that definitely weren't online games.

She took a sip out of a nearby bottle of fruit juice, and busied herself with something she could control: business.

* * *

Outside, Valerie hadn't wandered far from Sinclair's room, perching herself on a chair in the hallway. She slumped into the seat and sighed, looking tired and defeated.

Arguments were still a terrible use of spoons, she reminded herself. All the mental effort of Chiller plotting and schoolwork without anything good to show for it. But then again, there was no way she was just going to back down like that.

She closed her eyes and got comfortable—a very easy thing to do, seeing as up here, chairs got less decorative, more the kind designed for someone to collapse on after a hard day. She blocked out the various noises of the Flores' family mansion, faint but still there, and tried to take a nap.

Her nose twitched. There was a familiar scent in the air—sweet, fruity, and completely, absolutely unmistakable for her:

Strawberries. Specifically, strawberry fritters.

Valerie bolted up right, suddenly wide-awake and re-energized from the smell alone. She turned her head to the side and saw Sugar holding a basket of the delights, steaming, golden, and glowing with their own light. That last one was probably Valerie's imagination (and signs of that “addiction” thing her parents and the doctors were worried about), but right now all she could care about was getting those pastries.

“My famous fritters, fresh outta the oven!” Sugar said as she lowered the basket within easy reach for Valerie. “Get 'em while they're hot! Careful though—don't want to torch your tongue!”

Valerie grabbed a handful and treated herself to warm, soft dough; sweet powdered sugar; and freshly made, 100% authentic strawberry jam, gooey, fruity, and scorching hot. It incinerated most of her taste buds, but the ones that survived told her it was _so_ worth it.

Valerie shivered as she chewed strawberry pastry deliciousness and roasted the inside of her mouth. “Thanks~!” She said after she swallowed. Though it came out more as “Thankths~!”

Sugar smiled. “You're welcome, sweetie! So, I'm assumin' you ain't waitin' out here to be first to my fritters?”

Valerie quickly frowned and shook her head.

Sugar smiled warmly. “Mind tellin' me why?”

Valerie shot her a look that said, “Look, you already know, so why don't we just save us all some time and cut straight to the heart of the matter?”

Sugar nodded. “When it comes to spats between close friends, I find it's best to say 'I'm sorry.' first. Don't matter who was really wrong: sometimes, it means y'all can leave a bad friendship behind without burnin' that bridge too badly; sometimes, it means y'all don't spend the next couple of days or decades in stony silence all the while wishin' _someone_ would apologize so y'all can get back together; and sometimes, no one or both of ya were wrong.

“And unlike my fritters, best you do it ASAP, always. O' course, an olive branch helps somethin' fierce.” Sugar lowered the basket into Valerie's lap. “That, or a basket full o' treats.”

Valerie smiled up at Sugar as she slipped off the chair with the basket in hand. “Thankths again, Miffifth Honeybawble.”

Sugar beamed, before the look in her eyes changed. “Good luck in there.” She said before she shuffled back down the hall.

Valerie looked at Sinclair's bedroom door. She hooked the basket in one arm, walked to the door, and knocked.

“Who is it?” Sinclair yelled.

“Valerie!”

A long stretch of stony silence.

“I've got a bathket full of yer grandmath's stwawberry strudelth!”

Within seconds, Valerie heard the distinctive clicks and noises of Sinclair undoing two of the three locks. The door opened as far as the chain would let it, Sinclair peered out with wary eyes.

Valerie smiled and held out the basket of still hot strudels to her.

Sinclair shut the door. The chain was removed and she pulled it back open the whole way. Valerie handed her the basket of treats, Sinclair said “Thank ya kindly” as she took it.

The two of them stood there looking at each other, Valerie smiling hopefully, Sinclair with her catlike grin back on her face.

“Well? Ya just gonna stand there all afternoon or y'all gonna get back in here?”

Valerie smiled wider. She stepped in past Sinclair.

“Strudel?” Sinclair said as she picked one up and carefully took a bite out of it.

“Nah, I'fe had enouff.” Valerie replied.

The door shut behind them and the bolts and locks were put into place once more.

From her hiding spot in the corner, Sugar smiled before she shuffled off for real.

* * *

“Gimme the thit rep.” Valerie said as she settled herself beside Sinclair at her desk.

Sinclair sighed as she showed the spreadsheets, communication logs, and newsfeeds on her screen. “It's not looking good. Aside from the fact that I've had to cut off some contacts and business simply because they got _too_ antsy and nervous in the wake o' the Flaming-O Show”--Valerie winced--”school's suddenly gotten _real_ good at shuttin' things down, and _now_ we've got Players who fancy themselves kid detectives.

“Only they're less a ragtag bunch o' rascals with tons moxie and no sense of self-preservation, more violent thugs with a justice bent and a strong belief they're in the right—the most _dangerous_ kind.”

“Too bad 'Extortion,' 'Violent Interrogations,' and 'Breaking and Entering' doesn't look too good on a volunteer work app.” Neala mumbled as she sat on Sinclair's bed, idly sorting out their schoolwork on the sheets and the pillows.

“The gist of it is, costs are up but reliability's down, employees and clients are gettin' nervous and doubtful about our ability to deliver, and the supply line's got holes in it if'n they haven't been ripped out. This won't last more than a few weeks, at best, 'cause the school's only got so many resources they can spend a'fore we have a different kind o' outrage, and Players are, bless their hearts, morons with short attention spans, but they are _determined_ morons with a strong inklin' for strong armin'.

“I _sincerely_ hope you have some plan to tide us through this mess, Val, because this ain't even gettin' into our little morale problem with our employees and associates! And unless we do _somethin'_ soon, both the Chillers and my business are gonna be gone, not to mention what'll happen to our behinds if they can trace all this back to us.”

All three shuddered at the thought.

“So, what's in that noggin' o' yours?” Sinclair casually bit down on a new strawberry fritter.

Valerie frowned. “A couple off pwans. You won't like the only one that'fl actually work, thoe.”

Sinclair slowly chewed on her fritter, and ate the rest of it just as slowly. She swallowed the last of it, took a drink of her juice, and slowly spun her chair around to Valerie. She looked her dead in the eyes, and said:

“If y'all say it's quit the business, _I ain't doin' it.”_

“If'f not going that far.”

“The answer's still 'No.'” Sinclair spun her chair back to her computer.

Valerie grabbed an armrest and spun her right back. “Thinclair, this bithness of yourth ith _too_ big; there'th too many moving parth, too many dependenfies, too many roadth that'll eventually lead back to you—with or wifout you funding the Chillerth. The Playerth may not be able to tholve the mythtery, but they can thertainly do a _lot_ of damage juth by doing their thing, let alone a focuthed fabotage.

“The beth thing we can do now ith downthize—get rid of everyfing but the essentialth like your thpy network; thell them off to other people; or juth plain let people go.”

“Well doesn't this all seem rather suspicious, washin' the blood off our hands?!” Sinclair cried. “If anythin', this is _more_ proof that I had a part of it! The Players aren't _complete_ idiots, they'll hear about this and start sniffin' around even more!”

“And I know you won't give them even a whith. But it'th not you I'm worried about them cracking down on—it'th the other Chillerth or your employeeth. I'm thorry, I went _too_ far with getting back at Elithe when fee wath thill Fandy, and now we're _all_ thfuffering.

“The Playerth want to find whoever did Flaming-O Fow, or juth deal uth a lot of damage out of fthpite.

“There are Chillerth that want out, before they're found out and the school maketh an example of them for the otherth.

“And _I_ want to get uth out of thith meff without anyone getting fuffthpended, ethpelled, or grounded for life, and our beth thot at that ith if we thart buckling down, keefing a low profile, and juth letting go.”

“Easy for you to say when you weren't the one who had to build it all up in the first place!” Sinclair shouted. Valerie let go of the armrest before Sinclair twisted her chair back to her computer.

Valerie joined Neala on Sinclair's bed, taking her usual position amidst the organized clumps of homework, books, and references the three of them could use. Neala was about to call Sinclair over to start doing their homework, before Valerie grabbed her hand and shook her head at her.

Valerie scooted over to Sinclair's schoolwork, and picked up her books. The tips of her hair started glowing as she started writing down the answers and making essays and notes for Sinclair to redo in her own handwriting later.

Back at her computer, Sinclair reluctantly weighed in which parts of her network had to go, worst come to worst.


	35. Chapter 35

“Gimme all your money.”

Sinclair stared at the much older, stronger, and intimidating looking girl in front of her.

Inside her head, she said, “Well, that was fast! Hasn't even been an hour on my first day in school and already I'm bein' robbed.”

To the bully in front of her, she said, “What're you gonna use it for?”

The bully scowled. “Just give me your lunch money already.”

“Not until ya tell me what y'all are gonna use it for.”

The bully loomed over her. “Is this some kind of joke? Because I'm _not laughing.”_

Sinclair was unfazed. “I can find a way to get whatever it is you want. Cheaper, faster, easier. Probably less hassle from the authorities than extortin' students out in the halls will get ya.”

The bully rolled their eyes, and grabbed Sinclair. She stiffened as the bully rooted in her pockets, until they pulled out a wad of cash. They glared at Sinclair before they went away mumbling under their breath.

Sinclair sighed in relief as she disappeared down the hall. She had little reason to worry; most of of her money was stowed in places where no one could take it by force without causing a very uncomfortable and unpleasant fuss for all parties involved. She made a note to slip a couple more sacrificial dollars in her pocket later.

She took another three steps and was stopped yet again.

“Hey…” A different student said. “That thing you said earlier… did you mean it?”

Sinclair smiled. “Yes. Details, not here.”

* * *

“Don't y'all ever get tired of the same old song and dance, each and every day?”

It was a difficult thing to say when you were cornered by two very large, very unpleasant, and very unmovable students, but Sinclair hadn't gotten this far in the business without knowing how to fake cool under pressure.

Her outside appearance was still standing on two legs, smiling slightly at them even though inside, anything of actual substance was down below in her shoes, sharing space with the emergency dollars slipped just underneath her socks.

“We'll stop once you help us stop the Cereal Chillers, Sinclair!” Player #1 cried. Sinclair knew their names, but recalling them seemed like a secondary concern at the moment.

“We know you're part of them! And we know that you know that we know that they know that --” Player #2 stopped. “Wait, how was that supposed to go again?”

Player #1 sighed, the expression on their face clearly showing that they dearly wished they were partnered with someone else.

“Look, why don't I just skeedaddle while you two figure out your bit?” Sinclair started slowly inching her way towards the space between the two Players' legs. “I'll have to admit, you two scared me bad when y'all stormed up and--”

Sinclair made a break for it. Fortunately, both Players were distracted and hadn't realized she was gone until she had already put some distance between them.

Unfortunately, Sinclair was neither a runner nor did she have very long legs. The Players yelled and caught up to her with ease.

Sinclair rounded the corner, the Players grabbed her, and all three found themselves looking at a few students that just happened to be filming themselves—and judging by the angle, no one would have much issue seeing what was happening in the background.

The two Players quietly cursed the Cereal Chillers, dropped Sinclair, and walked away.

The students doing the filming just looked at each other and shrugged.

Sinclair happily strode down the halls, smiling and ignoring the group with the camera. Her saviours weren't Cereal Chillers. In one of the few times in Sinclair's memory, the innocent bystanders who were almost witnesses really were there by complete coincidence.

It was a lucky break—a depressingly rare one, when she took into account the rest of her life right now.

* * *

Two Players burst out of Sinclair's office, gagging and holding back their lunches. Sinclair herself casually pulled out a face mask with an air-freshener inside, strapped it on, and headed in through the open door.

There was still a noxious stench in the air, one that was just bearable because of the mask. Arranging for bored students to end up in the chemistry lab yielded far better results than any dedicated development to the Ultimate Stink Bomb, she noted happily.

Sinclair walked past her desk and ignored the mess. Most of its drawers had been pulled open or pulled out, old files that were no longer relevant or even useful were in disarray, and the “Red Herring” dummy ledgers were gone—not that much of a surprise, given how little the average Player understood how Sinclair's business operated or what the numbers actually meant, and how much stock they put into a piece of paper that simply _looked_ important.

She took her chair—thankfully still standing and in one piece—and dragged it all the way to the nearby air vent. She tapped on the wall nearby.

_Dat dat da-dat dat, dat dat._

Envelopes and folders were fed through the spaces in the grate. “It's kinda sad this aint' just theatrics, ain't it, Valerie?” Sinclair said as she caught them and put them down on the seat.

“Yep.” Valerie said as she prepared a second delivery of the real reports. “Who knew you had a look-a-like?”

“More importantly, why hadn't I known they existed?”

“Probably because they don't go to this school—turns out they got someone's little sister to play you. Pretty convincing, but lucky they couldn't do your accent.”

Sinclair sighed as she looked at the papers. “Luckier ya made a counter just for that. How'd ya even think that they were gonna pull off a stunt like that in the first place?”

“I watch a lot of cartoons, okay? So does Tiana and she rules the Game now, more or less. Almost all of their schemes have been done before in fiction which makes them easy to bust.”

“But how do ya figure out which one they're gonna do, exactly?”

Even if Sinclair couldn't see Valerie, she knew she shrugged. “I don't know. They just come to me. I mean, there's signs, things I overhear, details from the rest of the spy network and all but… when I really think about, it's all just hindsight that I could see them in the first place.”

“I am _so_ glad I took a chance on ya, Val.” Sinclair said as she took the last of the day's actual reports.

Valerie chuckled. “What, didn't think the invisible girl with the chronic illness couldn't step up when her life almost literally depends on it?”

“I didn't expect you to be so _good_ at it, is what I mean! It's kinda terrifyin', actually...”

“Hey, Sinclair? Don't fret. I'm on your side, okay? Always will be. Unless you do something catastrophic like reestablish that dictatorship Eli ran when she was still Sandy… I'm always going to be your friend."

Sinclair paused.

“… And speaking of which, I need a _really_ big favour: would you mind if I skip all of tomorrow's jobs? It's a Wednesday, and if all the folks have been suspiciously quiet on Tuesday and Monday, I'm not so sure they'll be feeling very chatty in the middle of the week… not to mention last week's disappointing turn out.

“I promise I'll make it up to you at a later date, I just _really_ need the spoons for Wednesday!”

Sinclair shrugged. “Sure, Val. Mind me askin' what it's about, though? I think I can rustle up somethings to help ya out on a small time basis, if'n my interests and yours line up.”

“… Uh, yeah… I kinda would. Mind, that is. No offense, but it's a personal thing.”

Sinclair looked at the grate curiously. “...None taken!” She faked a smile, looked down at the sheaf of documents in her hand, and started shifting through them.

The reports were all complete, and almost all of them showed the same bad news: intercepted messages and goods, unintentional sabotage, clients just keeping their money in their pockets, and other warning signs that many parts of Sinclair's network weren't going to last without a miracle.

“Alright, everythin' seems to be in order!” Sinclair said. “I'll get your pay later, too; cash flow's been tighter than usual.”

“No need!” Valerie sang. “This month's completely on me! Consider it an early birthday present, and something of an overdue thank you for all the things you've done for me, too.”

Sinclair stopped. “That's… awfully generous of ya.”

Valerie chuckled. “Hey, I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't hired me, but I'm pretty sure it'll be somewhere worse than being in this vent—or being in it without a skateboard to get around. You need anything else, Sinclair?”

Sinclair consulted her memory and did a quick check of her phone. “No, y'all are dismissed.”

“See you tomorrow then, Sinclair!” There was the quiet sound of Valerie rolling away.

“See ya.” Sinclair mumbled. She returned her chair to her desk and started to study the reports in detail.

Her three most important endeavours were still fine; the rest were lagging or on the verge of failing. Unless Sinclair put in a lot more work, time, and effort than she'd like into them, plus got a lot more employees of similar disposition, passing them on to someone else or chopping them off completely was the better option.

Just like Valerie warned and told her would be the best option of them all. A decision she'd come to after using her skills for spying, piecing random bits of conversation and information into a coherent, useful picture, and pouring over Sinclair's spreadsheets.

Sinclair quickly stuffed the papers into a secure binder disguised as one for homework. She wedged it in her bag and got out of her office in a hurry.

There was a more important, urgent concern than the reports, she realized. She didn't know how it hadn't occurred to her until now, but there was a giant unknown variable staring her right in the face, a table turner that could turn the whole school on its head, a catalyst of epic proportions that could cause more damage than the Players or the administration could ever hope to:

Valerie.


	36. Chapter 36

“Hello?! Oh, hello there, sweetie! Sorry for bein' a little bit short earlier, Sinclair's been quite the handful these past few days! She's been missin' you two somethin' fierce!

“What? Delayed at the airport? … Oh my. Oh my, oh my. Those are some very serious allegations right there.

“Oh, well, I'm sure it'll be cleared up soon enough. You two get back here ASAP, y'hear me?

“Love you two, too; I'll pass it on to lil' Sinclair, don't ya worry your pretty little heads.

"See you two soon!”

* * *

“Is this really necessary?” Neala said as she and Sinclair hid away from sight and within view of the bus stop, Valerie's usual destination after school.

“O' course it is!” Sinclair replied. “Have y'all ever wondered how much we really know about Valerie?”

Neala took a deep breath. “Her middle name's Yvonne, after her grandmother on her father's side; she's addicted to Flaming-O's the cereal, and owns an Agent Flaming-O doll she's had since her birthday last year, December 23; she's a fan of cartoons and TV shows, and her top three are the _Fringe Rangers, Tales from the Fleet_ , and _New Moon Disorder_ \--”

“ _Okay!_ Lemme rephrase the question: what do we _really_ know about her that you can't get from a Facebook page?”

Neala stopped. “I… we haven't really done much except talk business, do homework together, and hang out and watch cartoons, have we?”

“What do we even know about where she _really_ got all those schemes and spyin' skills?” Sinclair asked quietly.

“I… we don't, but...”

“But…?”

Neala's mouth opened, but no words come out. She closed it and shook her head. “… Sinclair, this is crazy; we shouldn't be doing this. I'm sure Val's got a good reason not to tell us! I mean, a spy's gotta have her secrets and all, right…?” She smiled hopefully.

Sinclair shot her a flat look.

“… I'm curious too, alright? But we… we shouldn't be doing this. Look, it's Mall Day Wednesday today: momma's taking me and Tia out shopping when it's nice and quiet out. These past few weeks have been really stressful for _all_ of us; why don't you join us and take the rest of today to just relax?”

Sinclair rolled her eyes. “Y'all know that I don't spend money that way.”

“You don't have to! Mostly, we just walk around, and unless it's a book for me and—uh, something for Tia, we just write it down and put it on the Buyer's Remorse Wall. It's where we wait a month or two to see if we really want it or it was just impulse.

“You know, so we don't make a decision that'll cost us a lot, that won't make us very happy in the long run, and that we're going to regret for a long, _long_ time…?” Neala casually bored a few holes into Sinclair's head.

Sinclair frowned. “… Fine. I see your point. We goin' to the parkin' lot or the pick-up point?”

“Pick-up. Momma's always itching to go as soon as we're all strapped in. C'mon, we'll call your grandma in the car.”

The two of them got out of their hiding place and made their way to the side of the school, where students were waiting around in the shed, talking, chatting, and waiting for their rides home to come driving up.

Neala and Sinclair stopped as Valerie and Elise passed them by. Two busy talking animatedly to each other, they never noticed Sinclair and Neala just a few feet away staring at them. They watched as the two of them got into a fancy, sleek, and freshly waxed car waiting on the curb. It was not a top of the line sports car by any means but one that'd certainly catch attention amidst the years or decades old, oftentimes second-hand vehicles most of Middleburg's Elementary's parents and guardians used.

Sinclair lips turned up into her cat smile. Neala looked on in horror.

“Sinclair. No. Don't.”

“Don't that just seem _real_ interestin' to you…?”

“Nope.” Neala started shaking her head. “No. No, no, no,… no it's not, not at all, not even in the slightest!”

“Sure, it ain't? Because last I know, that's a first!”

“What's a first?”

The two of them snapped their heads to see Tiana walking up to them, the look on her face teetering from unamused to _very_ interested.

“Just somethin' from a cartoon we're watchin', new episode, new things, and all that.” Sinclair lied.

Neala shut her mouth tightly and nodded.

Tiana glared at the both of them, her sister especially. “Oh really? What's the show? I might want to check it out.”

Neala used all her will to hold back the bead of sweat threatening to form on her brow. Sinclair consulted her memory for which shows Valerie had given her specifically for this situation.

_Beep-beep!_

The three of them turned to the familiar sound. Sinclair and Neala internally sighed in relief, while Tiana cursed the timing. Mrs. Harris waved and smiled with one hand while she used her other to steer the Harris' car to the curb.

“Hi Bunnies!” She said as she unlocked the doors and popped open the passenger side door. “Sinclair joining us for Mall Day Wednesday?”

Neala nodded as she opened one of the back doors. “She is! We'll tell her grandmomma as soon as we're strapped in, mama!”

“I promise she won't mind one bit, Mrs. Harris!” Sinclair said as she quickly climbed in.

Tiana glared at the two of them from the street before Neala shut the door on her. Mrs. Harris smiled at Tiana and patted the passenger seat. “Gonna be standing there for a while longer, Tia Bunny?” She asked playfully.

“No, momma.” Tiana grumbled as she sat into the passenger seat. She glared up at Sinclair and Neala from the rearview mirror, but the two of them were already digging into their packs and getting out their homework and their phones—or so it would seem. While Sinclair did text her grandmother, the things they wrote on their notebooks and spare pieces of paper went like this:

_“So what's the plan when we run into Val and Eli?”_

Neala blinked and cast Sinclair a brief questioning look. _“What makes you think we're going to run into them?”_

 _“C'mon, Neala: do ya really think the forces of coincidence aren't going to keep on working their magic today? I'd be surprised if we_ don't _run into those two at the mall.”_

Neala looked up and shot Sinclair an incredulous look before she started writing again. _“Okay:_

_“1. We don't know where they're going. The mall isn't the only kid-friendly after school destination in Middleburg._

_“2. What are the chances that Eli and Val are both going to the same place as us? Look, everyone knows Eli's at least upper middle class; they could be going to one of those fancy independent boutiques on the fashion strip, for all we know. And,_

_“3. Even if the stars align, we end up in the same place as them, and we miraculously, somehow, against the laws of probability are coincidentally there at the same time and place as them, **we shouldn't be spying on them in the first place.**_

_“I'm sure Valerie's got a good reason to not tell us about her going off with Eli and we won't even_

“Say, is that Valerie in the car next to us? The one on the right?” Mrs. Harris asked as they were stopped at an intersection.

Neala and Sinclair dropped their pens and pencils, Tiana stretched herself out of her seat to look out the window.

Right next to them was the car Elise and Valerie were riding in, the two of them in the backseat, engrossed in a cartoon playing on a tablet. Valerie seemed to notice she was being watched, and was about to look over her shoulder and right back at the Harrises and Sinclair.

All three of them quickly took interest in things that were far, far away from Valerie's general direction.

In the other car, Elise laughed and tugged Valerie's arm. Valerie shrugged off the incident, and brought her attention back to the show.

“Something the matter, girls…?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“Nothin' big, Mrs. Harris!” Sinclair said. “Just… Val told us her plans for today were somethin' of a secret, and we don't want her to know that we know.”

“Exactly.” Neala added.

“I see!” Mrs. Harris said as the light turned green. Elise and Valerie's car went first, Mrs. Harris followed after. She smiled. “Gonna have a hard time doing that, though! Looks like we're both headed to the mall!”

A grin slowly grew on Tiana's face.

Sinclair shot Neala a mischievous look.

Neala tried to shoot her a pleading, discouraging look, even if she was sure it wasn't going to do anything.

She was outnumbered two to one. And worst of all, she was dealing with Sinclair and Tiana.


	37. Chapter 37

“What's she getting another Agent Flaming-O for?” Tiana asked. “I thought she already has one!”

“Oh, I don't know: they're both little girls?” Sinclair replied. “Ain't exactly strange for us to want another furry friend, right?” She shot Tiana a withering look before she went back to spying on Elise and Valerie.

“But why with _Sandy_ of all people?”

“Beats me! She may be startin' a collection for all we know, and Val's helpin' her pick out one because obviously she's an expert on all things Flaming-O. Now how 'bout y'all stop askin' dumb questions so we can finally get some answers?” Sinclair glared at Tiana.

Tiana scowled back at her. “What'd you just say to me?!”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Le' me put it in terms y'all will understand: you suck at this.”

Tiana balled her fists. “Why you little…!”

From some distance away, Neala watched her sister and one of her best friends have yet another loud whispering match from their long-useless hiding spot, a standing display some distance away from the toy store's main wall of plush toys.

It was hard not to notice them. One was tall and stocky; the other was short and pudgy. One was fond of ripped sleeved shirts, workout pants, and trainers; the other was fond of dresses with friendly colours and patterns like polka dots, and comfortable slip-ons. One kept turning up the volume of her voice and looking intimidating; the other kept slinging sarcasm with the special sting of a Southern accent.

All the arguing was just the flashing neon bulbs around the “Yes, we're spying on you!” sign the two of them broadcast to basically everyone in the entire mall, most of all Valerie and Elise who were well within hearing range.

Neala shook her head and went back to pretending to browse through the dolls, collectible figurines, and action figures on the shelves; when Valerie chose to confront Sinclair, she wanted to at least _look_ like she had absolutely nothing to do with it.

It was only a matter of time, Neala knew—that Valerie or Elise didn't know they were being watched was about as likely as Tiana and Sinclair being capable of stealth in the first place.

Mrs. Harris stood by watched over her wards like a referee on the sidelines. “Something going on, Bunny?” She asked.

Neala sighed. “Just _really_ bad decisions that are going to strain our friendship with Valerie, and drive her opinion of Tiana even further into the negative digits.” She said flatly.

Mr. Harris hummed and nodded. “Keeping an eye on them so you can help them out when they finally land themselves in hot water, then?”

“Yep.” Neala replied just as enthusiastically.

Mrs. Harris smiled. “You're a good friend and sister, Neala.”

“Thanks, momma.” Neala replied half-heartedly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valerie and Elise leaving the wall of plushies. Valerie had an Agent Flaming-O under her arm, smaller than and without the gun or the voice box like the one she already owned. Elise and her father followed after her as they went to the direction of the checkout counters.

Neala turned her attention to Tiana and Sinclair and found them still arguing. She kept quiet and busied herself with the opposite rows of toys; it wouldn't help to even give them a hint as to where their quarry was when they finally remembered what they were supposed to be doing.

“… A subtle art that requires patience and keen attention to details! Ya can't just glean somethin' ya can use just like that; you gotta wait, observe, and take into account everythin', no matter how small or insignificant it seems! More importantly, ya don't distract yourselves by askin' your partner questions every five-fifteen seconds!”

“Oh, and how are you suddenly such a master of spying?” Tiana shot Sinclair an accusing look.

“No comment!” Sinclair snapped back. “But what I _will_ comment on is that we're all only really capable of doin' one or two things at a time, and talkin' ain't spyin'! S'a miracle ya ain't blown our cover yet!”

“Hey, you haven't been a church mouse yourself! What's to say _you're_ not the one that busted us?”

Sinclair rolled her eyes and casually turned her sights back to the wall of plushies. “Well why don't we just go and--” She noticed Valerie and Elise were long gone. “Aw, fiddlesticks.”

Tiana snapped her head to where their quarry used to be and groaned. _“Great_ job, Sinclair; they got away.”

“I can see that.” Sinclair mumbled flatly. “Now why don't ya go be useful and tell me where they might have gone?”

“Don't you have a tracker on her phone?”

“I do, but I can't use it no more—not unless ya want to explain why we were stalkin' Val to the police, 911, and her mom.”

For one of the few times in her life, Tiana's face changed to a look of complete, absolute horror. “Why would you do something look that?!” She yelled.

“Contingency plan.” Sinclair explained. “Valerie needs a lot more help gettin' out of binds than other kids, especially with how often she gets put into them, no thanks to you and your cronies.” She explained.

Tiana scowled. “Hey, just for the record? The Players have changed, alright?! _I've_ changed.”

Sinclair nodded and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _“_ _Ri_ _ii_ _ght_ , right…”

Tiana growled. “You implying I'm lying, Sinclair?”

From the side, Neala tensed up and prepared to jump in if fists actually started flying. She cast a quick pleading look at her mother. “Is it too much to ask that you pull the Mom Card on them?” She asked.

“Can't just pull it out all the time like that, Bunny;” Mrs. Harris replied. “Besides, I think there's a lesson here somewhere, and they aren't learning it any way except the _hard_ way.”

Neala sighed quietly and kept watch over her friend and her sister. “Whatever you say, momma.”

Sinclair and Tiana somehow managed to stop arguing long enough to tail Valerie and Elise once more, dragging Neala and Mrs. Harris along with them till they ended up at the department store by the Preteen's section. The two of them actually spied properly and competently, idling in spots with good cover and a good view, splitting up and using their numbers to keep track of their targets' movement throughout the racks, but once again, it all fell apart when Elise and Valerie ended up at the dressing rooms, Mr. Yapp lugging the dresses and outfits the two girls had picked out, and Sinclair and Tiana found themselves with nothing to do but stay in one place, watch, and hope something interesting happened.

Elise and Valerie were still sifting and sorting through the piles of clothes when Tiana finally had enough. “Ugh, I can't take it anymore!” She cried. “This spying stuff is _boring!_ Nothing's actually _happening!”_

“Well how else are we supposed to figure out what the heck is going on right now?” Sinclair shot back. “Go up to them and ask?”

Tiana was about to make a come back when she noticed Neala out of the corner out of her eye. She smirked. “Heh, for once, you said something useful. Keep an eye on them, I'll be right back.” She patted Sinclair on the arm before she rushed over to her sister.

“N'ala! Can I talk to you?” Tiana said as she walked over. She cast a quick glance at her mother, offered a brief apologetic look, before looking back at Neala and silently adding, “Where momma can't hear us.”

“Sure.” Neala shot her mother a similar look, Mrs. Harris gave the two sisters an understanding smile back. The two of them headed over to a semi-secluded spot.

“I can't stand Sinclair, she's ruining everything!” Tiana quickly began. “This spying thing's not going to work so long as she's around, so I need you to go to those two and ask what the heck they're doing here together!”

Neala resisted the obvious, incredibly tempting reply. “I'm not doing it, Tia.” She said instead.

Tiana groaned. “C'mon, sis! You used to help me out all the time!”

“Yeah, well that was before our interests started going down two _very_ different directions, Tia.” Neala deadpanned. “Look, Valerie didn't tell me or Sinclair about going off to the mall with Elise for a reason; I trust that it's a good one.”

Tiana narrowed her eyes, her lip curling into a disgusted scowl. “That girl's playing you.”

Neala shrugged. “Hey, if it means I don't get involved with _your_ schemes.”

Tiana groaned again, glared at Neala, and stomped off. Neala watched her have a brief conversation with Sinclair, before the two of them switched places.

Sinclair calmly sauntered over to Neala, a smile on her face. “Hi N'ala! Is there anythin' I can do or get y'all to convince ya to do me a _huge_ favour and ask Val a question or two?”

“No.” Neala replied flatly.

Sinclair kept on smiling. “I can assure y'all that whatever it is ya want, I can get it! Within reason, o' course.”

“Still no.”

“Not even for your best friend…?” Sinclair gave Neala puppy dog eyes.

Neala sighed. “Sinclair, I'm sorry, but I think we all know in this friendship, Valerie outranks yours.”

Sinclair frowned. “Well, it was worth a shot, right?” She gave a small smile. “Thanks, N'ala.”

“You're welcome.”

Sinclair waved goodbye and walked back to Tiana. The two of them had yet another conversation that was loud, angry, and not subtle nor inconspicuous in the slightest, before casting a glance at Valerie and Elise taking turns dressing up and showing off, then looking back at Neala.

The two of them walked over to Neala together, grim determination on Tiana's face, a big friendly grin on Sinclair's.

Neala closed her eyes and held her hand up before either of them could get a word out. “I'm sorry, but whatever it is you two are going to say, please don't. We all know the answer's going to be 'No.'”

Tiana scowled. “Don't you want to know what the heck it is your friend is doing here with _Sandy_ of all people?”

Neala narrowed her eyes at Tiana. “She goes by Elise now, and yes, I am, actually! But you know what? Just because there's a question doesn't mean you should find out the answer!”

“But y'all gotta admit it's a _very_ big question, ain't it?” Sinclair added.

“A very big question that's going to stay that way, yeah.” Neala replied. “If you two want to find out so badly, then why don't you two just--” She stopped, thought for five seconds and cringed. “Actually, just forget everything I just said; you two stay with momma, I'll be right back.”

Tiana laughed. “Alright! Go sis!”

Sinclair smiled. “Thanks, N'ala! I'll remember this for sure!”

Neala shook her head. “For the record: I'm doing this for Valerie, not you two.” She mumbled.

Tiana and Sinclair headed back to Mrs. Harris, Neala made for the dressing rooms and started thinking of what she was going to say.


	38. Chapter 38

Valerie threw open the curtains to the dressing room; Elise's eyes sparkled and her smile lit up the rest of her face; Neala stopped and stared, whatever lines she had rehearsed in her head getting thrown out the window.

Valerie wore a simple yet elegant dress in a striking, attention-grabbing shade of purple, one that brought out the bright blue of her eyes and the highlights in her hair, and made her look positively adorable. Her usually messy and uncontrollable hair had been tamed somewhat, most of the brown and copper-red curls hastily brushed back and tied with a ribbon into a loose braid, the purple ends gathered up at the tips or neatly hidden behind her back. The deep scowl and the unamused look on her face only made her look even cuter.

“You see this?” Valerie gestured to herself. _“This_ is why I don't do fancy dresses...”

“You really should.” Neala said. “You look _amazing.”_

The look on Elise's face went from happy to hostile in a split-second. She snapped her head to Neala and gave her a look that said she _really_ shouldn't have done what she just did.

Valerie blushed and didn't notice the sudden change in the room's temperature. “You really think so?”

Neala quickly clamped her mouth shut, Elise shot her a look that said “First offense, last offense~!” before she turned back to Valerie, sunshine and joy once more. “I _know_ so, Riri!” She said. “I told you purple was so _very_ much your colour!”

Valerie blinked and absently touched her braid. “… Huh. I'll… keep that in mind, thanks.” She turned to Neala, and wordlessly gave her the go ahead.

Neala suddenly realized she still didn't have an apology made up for Tiana and Sinclair.

“If you're here to apologize for your sister and your best friend's poor attempts at espionage, you need not to.” Elise smiled. “I think it's _hilarious_ they haven't realized or accepted that we know they're there.”

“Which makes one of us...” Valerie mumbled.

Neala nodded slowly. “Got it … I'll just leave you two alone now.” She thumbed behind her and started walking back.

“Wait! N'ala!” Valerie cried. Neala looked over her shoulder. “5:30, meet us at the food court, west side by the Cereal Barn;” She said. “I'm gonna tell you guys _everything,_ but not now, alright?”

Neala nodded. “5:30, food court, Cereal Barn, got it.”

“Good. And N'ala?” Valerie smiled. “Thanks.”

Neala smiled back. “You're welcome.”

Valerie threw the curtains back over the dressing room. Elise calmly looked at Neala with an expression that said, “It'd be the best for _all_ of us if you leave right this instant.”, she promptly turned around and headed straight back to Sinclair and Tiana.

“Well?” Tiana asked.

“5:30, food court by the Cereal Barn. Val says she's telling us everything, but not now.” Neala replied.

Sinclair pulled out her phone and made note of it, while Tiana groaned. “Seriously?” She said.

“I asked, that was their answer. Now can we _please_ get back to Mall Day Wednesday?”

Tiana looked at her watch, and groaned. _“Fine.”_

Sinclair put away her phone and smiled. “Yes and thank you, N'ala! I owe ya big for this!”

Neala had a sinking feeling Sinclair wouldn't feel so good about it soon enough, but didn't say anything.

* * *

5:30 PM, Middleburg Mall's food court.

As promised, Valerie and Elise were at a table by the Cereal Bar with bowls of Flaming-O's and Cuckoo Crisps. Their bags were kept safely within Mr. Yapp's reach and sight, all their purchases wrapped up and stowed away except for the Agent Flaming-O doll left sitting on the table.

Tiana all but dragged her mother to them, Sinclair and Neala following shortly behind. Neala had a newly-bought book clutched to her chest--”Friendly Fire: What To Do When You Find Yourself In The Middle of Conflict between Friends, Family, and/or Lovers.”

They stopped in front of the table, Mrs. Harris and Mr. Yapp exchanged pleasantries, the girls eyed each other. Valerie excused herself from the table, grabbed the Agent-Flaming-O toy, and walked up to Sinclair.

Valerie held it out. “Happy birthday, Sinclair.” She said flatly.

Sinclair looked at the toy then back up at Valerie, a confused look on her face.

“It's your present, from me and Elise.” Valerie explained in a deadpan tone. “The dress shopping was because Elise needed a new one after what happened to her last best 'special occasion' outfit, and I didn't tell you guys I was doing this with her because A) I know you and Elise don't get along too well, B) I wanted to keep it a secret because I knew it'd bother you, and C) I wanted it to be a surprise”.

Valerie sighed. “Here I was thinking I could show you that surprises can be a _good_ thing, that the unexpected doesn't always have to be _bad._ But you know what, Sinclair? You were right:

“Surprises are nothing but trouble.”

They stood like that, Valerie holding up the Agent Flaming-O doll, Sinclair staring at her in mute horror, the others just watching till Neala stepped in and gingerly took the toy from Valerie.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Sinclair.” Valerie muttered before she spun on her heel and stalked back to her chair. She ignored Mr. Yapp's asking if she was alright, grabbed her spoon, and started shoveling Flaming-O's into her mouth. Elise just quietly started on her own cereal.

Mrs. Harris quickly coaxed her wards away from the table, making up a hurried excuse that Mr. Yapp accepted without question. All was silent between the four of them until they were clear on the other side of the food court.

“ _Wow.”_ Tiana said, breaking the silence. “You messed _up._ ”

Sinclair scowled and glared at Tiana. “Ya really have to pour salt in the wound like that?!”

Tiana smirked. “Hey, what do I care what you guys think of me? Besides, you gotta admit, that was a pretty epic fail.”

Sinclair steamed up and raised her finger up to Tiana. Neala grabbed her arm and slowly, gently brought it back down.

“Anyone hungry for anything?” Mrs. Harris asked quickly.

“I'm hungry for Monster Munchies!” Tiana sang.

Neala shot her sister a disbelieving look, before scanning the stores and stalls nearby. “Not in the mood for cereal right now, sorry. How about some... chocolate pretzels...?”

Sinclair forced a smile on her face. “Those sound great!”

“Two outta three vote! Sorry, Tia Bunny, we're getting chocolate pretzels!”

Tiana scowled, but the smile on her face came back as soon as she saw the Agent Flaming-O toy still in the crook of Neala's arm.

* * *

“Granny!” A younger Sinclair cried as she ran through the crowds of her schoolmates and their parents.

Sugar bent down and held out her arms, smiling and happily pulling her granddaughter into a hug. “How was your first day o' school, sweetie?” She asked.

“Better than I thought it'd be! You were right, granny; it's just full o' opportunities!” Sinclair replied.

Sugar chuckled. “Told ya, sweetie!” She pulled Sinclair away. “Did y'all make any friends today?”

Sinclair's smile disappeared for a moment, before she forced it back on her face.

Sugar shot her granddaughter a look. “Rosa, what'd I tell ya…?”

Sinclair sighed. “Go make some friends.”

“And why didn't ya…?”

“Oh, what'd I need friends for, granny? I've got you, don't I?” Sinclair smiled hopefully.

“That you do, sweetie, but trust me: you're going to need friends one of these days. Maybe not now, but one of these days, you'll have things you can only tell someone that ain't your granny. And because o' that, I want you to have at least one friend by tomorrow, alright?”

Sinclair sighed again. “Okay, granny...”

Sugar nodded. “Good!” She pulled her Sinclair back in for a hug. “Just know I'll always be here when ya need me to, alright?”

Sinclair smiled and snuggled against her grandmother's chest. “I know. I love ya, granny.”

Sugar smiled. “I love ya too, Sinclair.”

* * *

“Granny, I need your help.”

Sugar left her ball of dough on the counter, wiped her hands on her apron, and sat down on a nearby chair. She patted her lap, Sinclair came over and climbed into it.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” Sugar asked as she put a hand on Sinclair's shoulder.

Sinclair sighed. “I messed up. Real badly.”

“Mind tellin' me how?”

Sinclair shot her a look that said, “Ya already know, don't ya?”

Sugar shot her back a look that replied, “I do, but I'd rather hear it from ya anyway.”

Sinclair sighed again. “I think Valerie hates me now. She said she was doin' somethin' today and didn't want me knowing what it was, then the opportunity to find out just happened to present itself, and I took it.”

“And what _was_ she doin', if'n I can ask?”

Sinclair looked down. “Shoppin' for a birthday present. For me. Didn't tell me 'cause she knew it'd bother me, knowing who she was doin' it with, and she wanted it to be a surprise, too.” She frowned. Well, that it was...”

Sugar nodded. “And now y'all don't know if you just done ruined your friendship.”

Sinclair nodded sadly. She looked up at her grandmother with a pleading, desperate look.

“Welp, only thing I can tell ya is to try to patch things up, and fast; wounds o' any kind are best treated ASAP, and the longer you let it lie, the worse it's gonna get. And _trust me_ , scars between former friends fester somethin' awful.”

“So I'm supposed to apologize?”

“That's'a start for sure, but y'all are gonna need to do a lot more than that.”

“Like what?”

Sugar smiled. “Y'all know Valerie better than I do, and I know ya got more in that noggin o' yours than you let on, Rosa.” She playfully touched Sinclair's nose. “What do _you_ think you should do if y'all want to patch things up?”

Sinclair balked. “Can't ya just tell me?!”

“I can. But I'm your granny, Sinclair, and part o' that job is teachin' ya how to fix your own mistakes.” Sugar smiled and gave Sinclair a quick, affectionate peck on the head. “Now good luck with the thinkin'!”

Sinclair bit back her groan. She looked up at Sugar and forced a smile. “Thanks, granny.”

“You're welcome, sweetie.”

Sinclair slipped off Sugar's lap and walked off dejectedly.

“Oh, Sinclair?” Sinclair looked over her shoulder. “Here's a hint: trust is somethin' ya give before you can get.”

“Thanks, granny.” Sinclair said, before she left the kitchen and went back up the stairs to her room.

She opened the door and found Agent Flaming-O on her desk, sitting on top of her computer and looking right at her. Sinclair winced, pulled the toy into her arm, and went over to her closet. She stopped as she saw one of the photos on the door:

Her parents, on their vacation a few days before the call that changed everything.

Sinclair looked away, and saw Agent Flaming-O's face, forever smiling and happy just like the photo. She raised the toy up to her face, and sighed. “Why can't things ever be easy for once?” She asked it.

The toy remained silent and smiling.

Sinclair sighed and set the toy back on her desk, beside her computer. Then, she opened her laptop and started thinking, Agent Flaming-O watching over her.


	39. Chapter 39

“ _Sorry, fell asleep. T_ _om_ _orrow_ _morning before school_ _okay_ _?”_ Valerie's reply went.

The text was stamped 5:47 AM, around the time Valerie usually woke up.

 _'_ _Of course she d_ _oesn't_ _hold a grudge,_ _'_ Sinclair thought to herself as she mindlessly walked through her morning routine. _'_ _Valerie_ _can't_ _do as much as most kids in a day; it'd make sense that as soon as she Elise dropped her off at her apartment she'd go straight to bed or would be too tired to even think of checkin_ _'_ _her phone._ _'_ She paused in the middle of her shower. _'Or maybe that's exactly what Valerie wants me to think, and she really_ is _angry at me, and she's usin' that as an excuse for me not to suspect anything before she officially blows up at me proper-like today, face-to-face.'_

The realization put a storm cloud over Sinclair's head all morning long. Her family and the mansion's servants stopped and asked if they could help, but there was only so much they could do; mornings in the house always tended to be chaotic, dozens of people that needed to get up and go out of the house at roughly the same time, all hinging on an almost clockwork system of sharing bathrooms, getting their breakfasts almost as soon as they sat down to the table or headed to the kitchen, and finishing up any last minute errands and other tasks in time to ship off in one of their many cars or carpools they were part of.

Personal problems just had to be resolved quickly or ignored later when things quieted down.

Sinclair tried to busy herself with contingency plans and new arrangements in case Valerie formally quit today, but then she realized, that assumed she knew what kind of void Valerie would leave and what kind of damage losing said asset would do—and with Valerie, few things were certain or knowable except that she'd deliver results and then some.

Except for generic preparations like an emergency fund, there really _was_ nothing she could do, so Sinclair spent the ride to school looking like someone that had just been summoned to their boss' office with an enigmatic “We need to talk.”

Valerie was waiting at the front of Middleburg Elementary in one of the waiting sheds by the bus stop. She looked tired. Not angry, not disdainful, not anything but the unmistakable look of someone had had enough of anything and everything. She looked up at Sinclair, and nodded once.

“Sinclair.”

Sinclair nodded back. “Valerie.” She thanked and dismissed the driver that had walked her there, then sat beside her friend on the bench.

They were all but alone in the shed and the area, it being well before first bell. The few students with them were lingering elsewhere, heading into the building proper, or not caring about what the two of them were up to.

They sat there in an awkward silence, Valerie idly kicking her legs under the bench, Sinclair clutching her bag on her lap.

Sinclair suddenly realized she hadn't thought up of anything to say to Valerie. But then again, was there really anything she could say that could make things all better? She decided no, and said the one thing she did know _would_ help, however little:

Sinclair looked Valerie in the eyes, and said, “I'm sorry.”

The look on Valerie's face didn't change, and words just started pouring out. “I'm really, very _truly_ sorry about what happened yesterday, more than anythin' I've ever been sorry about in my whole life! Our whole business relationship is built on mutual trust and assumin' the other person is always tellin' you the truth, but more than that, we're friends, I shouldn't have tried to find out what it is y'all were doin' at the mall when y'all said ya didn't want me knowin', even in a roundabout sort o' way.

“I should have trusted you like you trusted me, but I messed _that_ up real good!” Sinclair grabbed Valerie's hands and held them in front of her. “Is there anythin', anythin' I can do to make it up to ya?”

Sinclair ignored the business part of her brain, the one telling her she had just gotten into a deal that could go south, very, very badly.

Valerie paused and looked at her. She opened her mouth to speak, before a different idea came to mind. Sinclair had a terrible feeling about the smile that spread on her face, but didn't say anything.

“Soggy Cereal?” Valerie asked.

Sinclair balked, whimpered, and sucked in a huge breath. “Soggy Cereal...” She mumbled with a sigh.

The two of them got off the bench, and started heading into school.

It took almost a year of hard work, ruthless piggybacking and opportunity taking on the already existing systems, and quite a lot more pride swallowing and forced smiling for Sinclair to get her network of contacts, spies, and suppliers to where it was now.

In less than two days, the whole thing was neatly, efficiently dismantled to the barest shadow of its former self.

The call went out before first period, and just like that, the Cereal Chillers went to work. Evidence was systematically gathered and destroyed, students were “innocent bystanders” for the last time, a last set of favours were pulled in, before the Chillers abandoned ship—if they didn't just take the generous offer of cutting ties immediately, that is.

By lunch, Sinclair's goods trading resorted to existing stock, going-out-of-business sales, and taking all of their products and shelving them if not outright abandoning them where they wouldn't be found.

By late afternoon, a period before last bell, the number of Cereal Chillers had gone from hundreds down to a measly dozen or so, the 10% that were dedicated, skilled, and made for the life of espionage, underground activity, and questionable business.

By school's out, Neala and two other Chillers sneaked into the boiler room hauling several boxes and bags worth of evidence. One of them opened the furnace grate, and they all started shoveling, the fires in there raging hotter and longer than they'd ever had before.

All day Friday was spent cleaning up stragglers and lose ends, spreading rumours and misinformation about the Chillers, made by the Chillers, and thinking up plans this weekend—about the only normal thing many of them had done in so long aside from going to class, doing homework, and after school clubs.

Valerie, Neala, and Sinclair had planned on going their separate ways till Sunday, when they caught wind of Tiana organizing an emergency meeting at the Harris home. Later that evening, the three sat in the living room, pretending not to listen in to the commotion happening not a few feet away from them in the kitchen.

Tiana slammed her palms on the table again. _“What do you mean you're all quitting?!”_

What few Players had actually bothered to show up flinched, but didn't look apologetic in the slightest. “This isn't fun anymore...” One of them whined. “It's just _work_ now, and I think we're actually going to get into Big Trouble if we get caught this time!”

“So what?! The school's been slapping detention and suspensions on us and threatening to expel us since the very start, what's so different now?!”

“It's not the school, it's the Chillers, Tia.” A second added. “I don't know who those kids are, but they're ruthless.”

“They changed the rules, man.” A third continued as they grabbed another pretzel from the plate in the middle. “JJ and the others had it right when they bailed after the Flaming-O show; they take this 'justice', 'revolution', and 'revenge' thing way too seriously.”

“Did you know 'icing' someone means the same thing as whacking someone? I didn't!”

“They call themselves _killers_ ; if that's not a sign they're crazy kids, then I don't know what is.”

Tiana groaned. “So you're just going to let them win like that?”

“I don't want to tangle with no crazy kids.” One of them said. The rest quickly echoed the statement.

Tiana scowled and steamed, her fists clenched tightly above the table. “You know what? _Fine!_ I'll deal with them myself, all by myself, because apparently, I'm the only one here who's not a wuss!” She got off her chair and stomped away.

“Can we still have pretzels?” One of the ex-Players asked.

“EAT ALL THE PRETZELS, SEE IF I CARE!” Tiana yelled as she passed by her sister and her friends. “It's the last you'll ever get, so I hope you all _choke_ on them!”

The kids were all silent until Tiana stormed into her room with a thunderous SLAM! The only sound for a while was the cartoons on the TV, reruns the three Chillers didn't really care for.

“So what are you guys doing after this?” A former Player asked.

“I don't know, head to the arcade, or something?” Said another as they took a bite of their pretzel.

“There's a free skateboarding lessons at the rec center tomorrow, we should totally go.” A third offered. “Free boards and you get some cool stuff, too.”

The rest of their discussions went down the same vein and the Players quickly forgot about the end of the Game they'd been playing for so long.

Evening came, everyone went back to their respective homes, and Sinclair found herself sitting at her computer with absolutely nothing to do. Usually, this'd be when she'd access the hidden files and programs that'd let her maintain her business, but now, there was no giant network to watch over and tend to, and what little of it was left were purposefully keeping their heads down till the school's parent-outrage-induced hyper-vigilance wore off.

She considered homework, but Valerie had already helped clear all three of their weekends from school work of any kind. She considered going down and joining the various forms of recreation and past times her family and fellow housemates indulged in, then she remembered there was a reason she never joined them even before she started the business. She considered calling up a few contacts, doing some work to start the rebuild, but after all the work of Soggy Cereal, Sinclair found herself reluctant to do anything productive.

Her eyes fell on Agent Flaming-O, still sitting on her desk by her screen. Then, she checked her Skype, found Valerie was online, and sent a message.

“What do you usually do on a Friday evening? Well, what you do now that YKW's all over.”

“ _Train. Study._ _Cartoons_ _. Why_ _do you ask_ _?”_ Valerie replied.

“I'm bored. There's nothing that actually needs doing anymore.”

“ _Want to go stream some shows with Neala, watch them, and gleefully rip them to pieces while we do?”_

“Sure, why not. What'd ya have in mind?”

“ _Have we ever watched Doctor Who together?”_

“Don't think so, no. What's that 'bout this time?”

“ _It's about an alien who goes about solving problems with the help of his magical time traveling police box.”_

Sinclair blinked. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“ _We can watch something else if you'd like.”_

Sinclair smiled. “I didn't say I didn't like it.”

“ _Boosh. I'll call Neala, send you a link in five. Password's 'RoseDeservesBetter.'”_

“That a reference to something?”

“ _You'll find out.”_ There was a short pause before Valerie sent another message. _“Hey, if this goes well, would you mind watching it live, together at one of our places or something?”_

“I don't see why not. Got more free time than I know what to do with for a while yet.”

“ _Cool, thanks. I just want to, you know, hang out with my friends, eat cereal, and watch cartoons on a couch without it being a cover for something."_ A pause. “ _You know: normal kid stuff.”_

Sinclair found herself frowning for a moment. “Normal kid stuff...” She mumbled to herself.

Valerie sent the link. Sinclair entered the stream room, sat back, and readied herself for her first evening doing something perfectly normal as a normal, average kid--something she hadn't done for a long, _long_ time.

She had to admit: it was nice.


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "'Nay" and "'Tay" = Contracted version of "Nanay" and "Tatay," Filipino for "Mother" and "Father."

It always felt like the duels of Western legend—finger on the trigger, eyes forward and unblinking, waiting for the signal that'd finally shatter the tension.

There were frantic calls about intercepted deliveries, surprise clean-ups of bedrooms being used as storage, and unexplained summons to the principle's office or teachers cryptically telling students to stay after class, but they were all nothing compared to this. Sweat slowly trickled down Sinclair's face, her eyes were starting to hurt from lack of blinking, and she was sure she'd forgotten to breath at some point, but she couldn't relax—not for a second.

Then, it happened: she heard that familiar noise, her finger clicked the button, and the image of her parents came up on the screen before the little bubble in the corner popped up. They'd done this many times before, Sinclair had chatted with them less that a week ago actually, but they could only ever call on her birthday once a year.

“Happy birthday, Rosa!” They cried, her father throwing a handful of confetti into the air.

Sinclair teared up, from joy, eyestrain, or both, she wasn't sure. She blinked and wiped the tears out of her eyes, sniffed and stopped the waterworks, looked at her parents and smiled. “Thanks _'nay_ , thanks _'tay.”_

They talked about the usual subjects: Sinclair's party later that day, who was coming, what was on the menu, and all the things you would talk about on a birthday. The mood was light, happy, and excited, until Sinclair completely, utterly destroyed it with seven words:

“When d'ya think are y'all comin' back?”

She had seen the faces her parents they made dozens if not a hundred times before, but it _always_ hurt the same.

“We don't know, Rosa.” Her mother said sadly.

“It seems fate has other plans for us.” Her father shrugged. “Nothing we can do about it.”

“But hey, who knows?” Her mother smiled. “You may just get a very nice, very unexpected birthday present today! Fate might just smile up on us yet, Rosa, never forget that.”

Sinclair had long deemed fate a jerk, a sadist, and an evil bastard who sent nice gifts every once in a while, but didn't let it show. “If y'all say so,” she said. “See you two at my party?” She smiled.

“Oh, definitely!” Her mother cried. “I've just been dyin' to meet your new friends in person! Well, about as in-person as video chat can get, anyway.”

“And I've just been dying to see the food this year!” Her father proudly continued. “It's not actually eating them, but I've got a very good imagination and this laptop can do 1080p!”

Sinclair giggled, her mother shook her head, a small smile on her face.

“We'll see you in a few hours, Rosa.” Her mother said.

“We both love you very much, _anak!”_ Her father continued.

“Love you guys too!” Sinclair said as she reluctantly pressed the button to end the call.

She was back to looking at her computer screen, Skype open, regular, normal desktop screen just behind it. She looked at the clock on the side—hours still to go before the party. Sinclair sighed, turned her chair around and hopped off, heading to her bed where a fancy dress and shoes were waiting.

Today was all hers to enjoy, of course, but even then, she still had obligations to attend to.

* * *

Sashi stared out their living room window, looking out at the car parked in front of their building. It wasn't exactly a limousine, nor was it the latest and best models fresh from the factory, but it was definitely one of yesteryear's top models, very well maintained and freshly polished before it was supposed to take the Kobayashis to Sinclair's birthday party.

“Hey Penn?” She asked.

“Yeah, Sash?” Penn replied as he stood in front of the hall mirror putting on a bow tie.

“You ever wonder why all of Valerie's friends' families seem to be _loaded_ , but they all go to a public school?”

Penn shrugged. “I don't question their parenting decisions, they don't question ours.” He said as he tugged his finished tying the bow. “Besides, I'm pretty sure they've got good reasons! Remember that talk you had with your parents when you said you weren't going off to college after graduation?”

Sashi cringed at the memory. “I'm worried about what those reasons are, exactly...” She mumbled.

Penn walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “C'mon, Sash, it's Sinclair's birthday today; do you really think you should be worrying like this?”

Sashi turned to him and scowled. “I'll have you know birthdays are a very good time for bad, _bad_ things to happen. Party at one of the ritziest hotels in the city? The kind of buffet and entertainment they've got planned? Private drivers and spare cars to pick up guests of honour?” She thumbed out the window. “If they afforded that with the ways I think they used, I'm thinking some uninvited guests are going to come up to crash the party...”

Penn sighed internally. “Okay, I'll agree that some things _are_ a little unusual with Sinclair's family”--Sashi scowled even harder--”and that it _is_ worth asking about one of these days, but not right now. Besides, what's Valerie going to think if you start asking around at the party?” He thumbed to their daughter, currently curled up and napping on the couch.

Sashi looked at Valerie, her scowl softening to a little frown. She sighed. “Fine. No questions. For now.”

Penn smiled at Sashi. “That's my wife! And remember--”

“No punching, kicking, biting, or otherwise physically assaulting anyone unless it's completely, absolutely necessary.” Sashi finished flatly. “If you make me watch that stupid Powerpoint again, I _swear_ I will hurt you.”

Penn raised his hands up in surrender. “I won't, I promise!”

Sashi glared at him for a moment. “Let's go already.” She growled.

Penn walked over to the door and opened it while Sashi quietly made her way over to Valerie, carefully picking her up in her arms. Valerie stirred a little in her sleep, unconsciously looking for the familiar softness of the couch cushions, before nestling into Sashi's chest instead. She smiled in her sleep, Sashi blinked back the happy tears in her eyes.

Together, three of them went out of their apartment and to the elevator.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a well-maintained, well-loved, and well-used model of this decade, Mr. Harris drove, Mrs. Harris waxed on about the menu for Sinclair's party, while Tiana and Neala sat in the backseat, seatbelts strapped in, an invisible but very noticeable barrier between them.

“… Roasting a whole pig, imagine that!” Mrs. Harris went on. “Not just pieces and chops of it, just putting the whole hog onto a stick, roasting it over an open flame, then serving the whole thing at the center of the banquet table! Pieces sliced and served on-site, on-request. Oh, I can't wait to see it—and more importantly, taste it!”

“Sounds great, momma!” The twins said automatically.

Mrs. Harris leaned out of her seat and into the back, the excited smile still on her face. “Oh, this party's just gonna be lotsa fun, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” Neala said. Tiana grunted.

The smile didn't falter. “You remember what we're all going to do once we see Sinclair and her family, right?”

“We're going to thank her for inviting us.” Neala replied calmly.

“And before we go home…?” Mrs. Harris looked at Tiana expectantly.

Tiana crossed her arms and scowled. Mrs. Harris didn't give. Finally, Tiana groaned. “We're going to tell them how great of a time we had, and thank them for having us over.” She said flatly.

Mrs. Harris smiled. “That's my girls!” She leaned back into her seat.

Tiana cast a sideways glance at Neala, she cast her a glance back. The two of them settled back into their seats, silent and avoiding looking at each other, as part of their temporary ceasefire.

* * *

The party looked like your usual all-out birthday bash with decorations, entertainment, and food galore, appearing even more chaotic because of the tons of people sitting at the tables, walking around, and enjoying themselves, but Valerie could tell there quite a lot of meticulous, planned method to the madness.

Seats were planned to minimize conflict and maximize harmony; buffets, bars, and displays were laid out strategically, close and convenient to the people who were likely to want what was on them and come back for seconds; the stages, the decorations, and even the uniforms on the staff were all coded and designed to cater to the specific needs of specific groups in specific areas of the venue.

The section filled with young parents and grandparents with their grandchildren benefited from an abundance of colourful, child-safe decorations and tons of snacks in the shape of funny animals served by cheerful servers with at least three different colours on their uniforms. As far from them as possible, elderly people and adults wearing finely tailored outfits and calm, professional expressions were served fine coffees, liquors, teas, delicate pastries, aged meats, and fine cheeses by servers that were so subtle and unobtrusive they may as well have been ghosts.

Sinclair herself was being the perfect birthday girl, going around greeting and thanking people for coming to her party, while subtly handing them off to a buffet table, an ongoing game, or a person they might want to meet within a minute of starting the conversation. It might have looked like she was just going through the tables at random, but Valerie could already tell there was a circuit, being subtly changed and modified in case they ran into someone out of order, or they weren't where they were supposed to be.

Sinclair had mentioned off-hand that the party planners had only been brought in to double-check the arrangements her family had made, and possibly fill in any loose holes they may have missed. Valerie already had her suspicions, but today all but confirmed where exactly Sinclair had gotten her talent and extensive knowledge of economics and crowd manipulation for the sake of profit, peace, and more profit from that peace.

About the only thing they hadn't accounted for was Valerie herself. Just being inside the party with all the noise, the constant activity, and the powerful aromas of the buffets and dozens of perfumes, colognes, and scents in the air was giving her a pounding headache, making her nose burn, and burning spoons at a disturbingly steady rate. She figured she'd just have to find a way to deal with it, though; it was too late for any real solutions, and besides that, she wanted to make a great impression on Sinclair's parents.

The introductions and their conversation during lunch had been extensively scripted and practiced on Sinclair, Valerie, and Neala's end—all about cartoons, school, and normal hobbies and interests for kids their age. There was absolutely no talk of the Cereal Chillers; no hints about the bullying, the chaos, and the illegal activities that plagued their school; and most importantly, they were under no circumstances to comment on the fact that they were talking to Sinclair's parents through a laptop.

It had been jarring at first, the two empty seats beside Sinclair's chair at the head of the table, their unused place settings in front, while their table card rested just beside the computer, but Valerie figured she was one to talk about eccentric families and unusual traditions, and kept quiet.

“I know I said it already, but I just want to thank y'all for comin' to my Rosa's party!” Mrs. Flores said as everyone was busy with the last of their dessert and talk was winding down with it. “As much as it's wonderful that the almost the whole family's come together for today, seein' her friends here too just makes it so much better!”

“Especially since she didn't invite any over last year!” Mr. Flores added. Mrs. Flores casually elbowed him in the ribs and glared at him for a split-second, the warm, cheerful look in her eyes briefly turning hostile and cold. She quickly turned back to the screen with a big smile on her face, as if nothing wrong had ever happened.

“What my hubbie meant to say is: he's happy that you've all made it to Sinclair's birthday party this year!” Mrs. Flores said. “Last year, her friends couldn't make—a real tragedy, but it happens!”

“Yep…” Sinclair said with expertly manufactured sadness. “Let's not focus on the past, though“--she smiled almost immediately--”today's for celebratin', and havin' fun! Speakin' o' which, whole 'nother round o' games is startin' soon, somethin' for everyone like earlier, but with prizes this time! Anyone game?”

“I am!” Penn said quickly.

“Count me in, too.” Neala added just as fast, before looking at Tiana.

Tia scowled at her sister before grunting at Sinclair. “Those prizes had better be good...”

The rest of the table chorused their agreement with varying levels of enthusiasm. Though her parents and her friends warned her against it, Valerie decided to join in, too.

The party _was_ draining her of spoons just by her being in it, but it was just a couple of games, she reasoned. What could go wrong?


	41. Chapter 41

The pinata burst, raining candy right down on Valerie's head. It didn't hurt, but the ensuing swarm of hungry children certainly did.

She debated using her pinata stick to fight her way out of the mess, but she realized that knocking out the two front teeth out of several children for the sake of a handful of spoons wasn't worth it. So she stayed in the center of a mob of yelling, grabbing, and pushing, until she felt a pair of hands grab her and raise her right out of the mess. She looked back, smiling and about to thank her mommy, before she realized it was Sugar who had pulled her out.

“Y'all mind if I talk to ya in private for a moment, Val?” She asked as she set Valerie down on the side, a fair distance away from the kids still trying to grab as many sweets as they could.

“Sure thing, Mrs. Honeybauble.” Valerie replied as she handed the stick back to a waiting party host.

She and Sugar looked over to Sashi and mimed that they were going to go off to a quiet corner of the party. Sashi forced the sudden frantic expression off her face and gave them the okay; Penn stopped holding down her arms, while Elise and Neala slowly released their grips on both her legs. Sinclair looked suspiciously at them as they walked off, but the mic was now back in her hands, and she had to commentate and introduce the next game.

Valerie and Sugar stepped through the tables and the crowds to one of the function room's balconies, one overlooking the hotel's pool and garden; it was a quiet area, large enough to comfortably seat a table for four, or several boxes of spare catering supplies and two servers on break. With a polite request and some exchange of dollar bills, the servers left and closed the doors, blocking out the noise of the party, and leaving Valerie and Sugar alone together.

Valerie looked out to the rails, taking a long, deep breath and sighing happily; out here, there wasn't any of the powerful, overwhelming, and sometimes offensive smells of food, perfume, and people. Sugar waited beside her, letting her relax and recover from the pinata mob.

“You feelin' any better, sweetie?” Sugar asked after a few moments.

Valerie nodded. “Much better, thanks.” She gave Sugar a knowing look, one that said, “Alright, we're alone, what is it?”

“I suppose y'all are wonderin' 'bout that little slip of the tongue back at our table?”

Valerie nodded again. Sugar wordlessly told her “Don't tell anyone I told you this,” Valerie wordlessly assured her she wouldn't.

“I know my own gran'daughter: she's the socializin' type, but she never really lets anyone in;” Sugar started. “Keeps her distance, never gets close, treats people more like a means to an end than anythin' else.” She looked out wistfully at the families down below at the pool, two parent chaperones enjoying a swim with their children and their friends. “She didn't used to be that way—she was just like any other kid, a'fore things changed. Don't know when it started, exactly, but if I had to guess, it'd be when they had a big ole thing for the parents back at preschool when they were sendin' out report cards.

“Everyone don' dolled up the whole classroom and themselves, even set up a little show for us! Everyone loved it, 'specially me and my L'il Sinclair's parents—even if those two were watchin' through a screen than up close and personal.

“L'il Sinclair never really talked about her ma and her pa much till then, but after that, everyone was askin' her about 'em, all sorts o' questions popped up, and they said the kind of things they don't know y'all shouldn't say till _after_ they done went and said it.

“O' 'course Sinclair was hopin', and prayin' for 'em to come back even a'fore then, but she only ever started getting' real antsy about it af'er that. Her folks used to promise that they'd be back soon--'We'll be home for the Holidays!', 'We'll be here to wake y'all up in the mornin', first day o' next month!', and 'We won't be tellin' y'all “Happy Birthday!” through a latop this year!' and so on.”

Sugar smiled. “She used to mark the days on her calendar, a big one I got her so she could just go to town with her crayons, and her markers, and her stickers. She'd get all excited, rushin' on home as the Big Day came closer, getting' herself, the house, her parents' room—everything all dolled up and ready for when they came back!”

She looked down and frowned. “… And, well, the Big Days came and went, and still no signs of 'em comin' home.”

“We kept on tellin' her we'd work extra hard to get 'em back this time, that things would work out this time, that this time, _really_ , they'd be back, but fate had other plans, and when someone keeps gettin' let down over and over again, y'all can only tell 'em to stay optimistic an' keep their hopes up so many times before it stops workin'.

“Sinclair stopped makin' play dates, stopped talkin' to her friends, and everyone eventually stopped tryin'. Then some other _real_ sordid event I won't talk about happened before she started elementary at your school last year, and before the year was up, she turned into the girl you know her as today.”

Sugar looked at Valerie and smiled. “I know y'all ain't a miracle worker, or an angel sent down from above to help her out, but I can tell y'all are different than all the others. I don't think I've ever seen my Li'l Sinclair willingly have friends more than a handful of times, let alone ones quite like you and N'ala; y'all ain't exactly the picture of 'best friends f'rever,' but I can just tell somethin's different about you two. There's somethin' that's keepin' y'all together, somethin' that's made Rosa want to let you two in—even if it's just a little bit.”

Valerie politely smiled back, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The warm, affectionate look eyes in Sugar's eyes turned knowing and vaguely threatening. “Don't y'all worry none 'bout what it is y'all are _actually_ doin' though, so long as y'all keep your heads and your voices down; it's just a fact o' life that _everyone_ gets into some serious mischief at some point in their lives. Not every legitimate business in the world started out so squeaky clean, after all.” Sugar chuckled to herself. “Well, I've taken up enough of both our time, someone's probably missin' us already.” She turned back to the doors leading to the balcony, and found Neala waiting behind it, a subdued look of panic and urgency on her face. “Speak o' the devil!”

“Hi Mrs. Honeybauble! Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but Mrs. Kobayashi's got something urgent to tell Valerie, can I please excuse her?” Neala said after Sugar opened the door. She politely side-stepped her and quickly strode next to Valerie, subtly looking at her and let her know the _actual_ situation.

Sugar smiled. “Go ahead! We were just wrappin' up our little talk, weren't we Valerie?”

“Yep!” Valerie replied as she started walking off with Neala, the latter's hand firmly pressing at the former's back.

“Want me to walk you two back?” Sugar asked.

“No thank you, Mrs. Honeybauble, she's not that far away from here.” Neala replied as she slowly sped up the pace.

“Yeah, Ms. Honeybauble, you just go back to enjoying the party, we'll be fine!” Valerie smiled over her shoulder as she passed Sugar.

Sugar shrugged. “Suit yourselves!” She said as the two girls disappeared back into the party.

“What's the plan?” Neala whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the noise.

“No plan, no need.” Valerie replied calmly. She suddenly stopped, as something Sugar had said came back to her mind, and the purple tips of her hair lit up like a light bulb.

Neala frowned uneasily. “Val...”

“She was just letting me get some fresh air, we just talked about the party, and _now_ we're going go to my mother and tell her we're going to the bathroom together— _alone._ ”

Neala opened her mouth to protest, before shutting it. They walked through the crowds till they came back to Sashi, sitting down on a chair and holding an empty glass in a death grip. The caterers were spared the cost of replacing a shattered glass and the Kobayashis a trip to the emergency room as Valerie looked at her mother and smiled at her, her wide blue eyes sparkling with a well-practiced look of childhood innocence.

“Hi Valerie! So, what'd you and Mrs. Honeybauble talk about?” Sashi asked, the tenseness in her tone implying she was holding back quite a lot.

“Nothing, really!” Valerie replied. “She let me get some fresh air, and then we talked a little about the party. Me and Neala are going to the bathroom now, if you don't mind!”

Sashi nodded, put down her glass, and got ready to get up from her seat.

“ _Just_ the two of us.” Neala quickly added. “No offense Mrs. Kobayashi, just private girl stuff.”

Sashi stopped. Her eyes flicked to the nearest bathroom, across a small patch of very crowded and busy tables, then went back down to Valerie, smiling and silently hoping, then to Neala, looking calm, cool, and collected as usual on the outside, though the inside was very different.

“Okay.” Sashi said carefully.

“Thanks mommy, we'll be back soon!” Valerie said before she quickly walked off with Neala, deliberately keeping themselves in sight for a some distance before she subtly steered them behind a busy section and out of view.

“I'll need a pen and something to write on—preferably lots of it.” Valerie whispered. The two of them slowed their walk, scanning the area until they fell on a mostly empty box of papers and numerous disposable pens set aside on a chair, no doubt used in some of the games earlier. With a little finesse and timing, waiting for the staff to get distracted by the young kids and be busy with the next activities to keep them happy, they nicked a sizable amount of papers and a handful of pens. The two of them quickly left the scene, stuffing their loot into pockets or keeping them out of view.

“Now I just need something to get me some more spoons, and into the bathroom without anyone seeing me.” Valerie mumbled as they resumed their walk there.

“Got it. Candy, juice, or should I just get some raw sugar from the tables?” Neala asked.

Valerie was about to reply before her eyes fell on a distinctly plain space in the colourful surroundings—a table with a stack of disposable cups, a large dispenser of coffee, and a tray full of sweeteners and creamers.

Neala saw it too, before turning to Valerie, and shaking her head. “No. Val. _Please.”_

“C'mon, Neala, it's just coffee.” Valerie replied. “This is the _real_ world: I'm not going to turn into some weird, mach 6 lunatic after a cup.”

Neala thought of an argument to that, and failed. She took a quick look back at Sashi—by some stroke of luck, Elise and Penn were with her, and it looked like the three of them were good and distracted. With a quiet sigh, she slunk off to the coffee table while Valerie waited some distance away. There was another server there getting their own cup, but they didn't question Neala getting her own, and she made sure they didn't get any reason to. Caffeine acquired, she walked back to Valerie as quickly as she could, holding the coffee like an explosive on a timer that was also highly sensitive to being jostled.

Valerie thanked her and started blowing on her cup, before taking a sip. She yelped as she burned her tongue and got her first taste of coffee's distinctly bitter flavour; a little more vigorous cooling, and she forced a few more mouthfuls down before she handed it back to Neala, grimacing and cringing.

“You alright Val?” Neala asked.

Valerie held her hand up. After a few moments, she looked up at Neala, opened her mouth to speak, when suddenly her big blue eyes grew wider than they ever had before.

Then, she disappeared.

Neala blinked. She looked around at the area, looking for any sign of Valerie, but it was as if she had already left long before. Elise slowly walked up to her looking as confused, concerned, and terrified. The two of them looked down at the cup of coffee still in Neala's hand, at each other, then back in the general direction of Sashi.

They looked at each other for only a few seconds, but a few seconds was all they needed to formulate a plan before splitting up and doing it, praying to whatever higher beings were listening all the while.


	42. Chapter 42

Sinclair strode into the bathroom, cheery smile still on her face and ready to initiate casual conversion. She took a good look at the area—one stall was occupied, the counter was wet from recent use, and the tray of extras was almost empty, but otherwise, she was alone in the vast expanse of white tiles, soothing scents, and elegant decorations.

She sighed happily and made for the sink. Much as she liked people, and talking with them was almost as enjoyable as sealing a deal or steering them just that much further to one, even she had her limits. She let her jaw muscles relax as she subdued her smile, checked her appearance in the mirror, then washed her hands. Much as she was sure many of her guests knew and followed proper hygiene, some of them were just too big of fans of lotions and moisturizers, and sometimes they just had that kind of unfortunate gene in their system.

The closed stall's door opened quietly, its inhabitant peeked out, before it quietly closed again. With the water running, Sinclair never heard it or thought to look in that direction. She finished washing her hands, dried them off with paper towel, threw it into the bin, turned around, and came face to face with Valerie.

“HI SINCLAIR!”

Sinclair screamed and jumped several inches into the air. Fortunately for the both of them, the floors were non-slip, Sinclair didn't bash the back of her head into the marble counter, and the walls of the bathroom were all but soundproof.

“'Val, what in the Sam Hill is going on? Why do you look like that? Are you even okay? And what in the world are you holding?'” Valerie asked in rapid succession. “I just formulated a new plan that came to me a few minutes earlier; I just had coffee for the first time--it's amazing stuff like oh my gosh I suddenly have ALL the spoons!--probably not, no, but I'll worry about that later, and what I'm holding is an _extremely_ risky plan that'll either work out _perfectly_ for everyone and everything at school— _ **or**_ crash and burn horribly and possibly get all of us _expelled_!” She said just as fast before she held up her arms, full of tightly folded paper triangles covered with a mix of barely legible scribblings and cryptic symbols.

Still suffering her first heart attack under age ten, Sinclair could only clutch her chest and stare at Valerie. Her big blue eyes were _very_ wide open, the corners of her mouth were stretched disturbingly far into a manic grin, and she also seemed to be _vibrating._

Still uncaring, oblivious, or unaffected by her friend's distress, Valerie kept talking. “I need you to hide these pages! Getting them all together in one place is risky as usual, so I need you and N'ala to keep them for me till I can discuss the whole plan to you two on Monday morning!”

Sinclair blinked, opened her mouth to speak, before she noticed that she was suddenly holding a handful of the papers in the crook of one arm. She looked at the triangles—even if they weren't folded, she could barely make heads or tails of anything Valerie wrote, all of it looking like a jumbled mess of numbers surrounded by senseless diagrams and incomplete drawings.

Sinclair looked up at Valerie, confused and honestly quite a bit terrified.

“'How did these get here?!'” Valerie asked. “I put them there for you, hope you don't mind! Kinda running short on time as I need to distribute these to Neala, and a do _whole_ lot of other things too!” She explained. “I gotta go now, good luck with the hiding, 'kay, thanks, bye!”

Sinclair reached out for Valerie with her other hand. She temporarily ignored the fact that though Valerie was standing right in front of her a second earlier she'd only managed to catch the tip of her fingers.

Valerie looked over her shoulder, disturbingly cheerful expression unchanged. “'What in the Sam Hill kind of plan is this, Val?!'” She asked. “I'm _glad_ you asked! It's a new _huge_ operation like 'Flaming-O Show' and 'Soggy Cereal,' and it basically involves getting your entire business back, reestablishing our control of the school, and making things better for _everyone!_ It's basically foolproof except for the fact that it hinges on one single unknown variable that'll decide whether or not this plan works, or gets us all into the _worst kind of trouble we'd ever_ _been in in our **entire lives**_ ** _~_ _!”_**

Sinclair blinked.

Valerie leaned in close. Uncomfortably close. “'What unknown variable is this, exactly?'” She whispered. “I can't tell you yet, but just so you know, I'm perfectly, _absolutely_ okay with you saying 'No' to this plan once you do.”

As quickly as she quickly as she appeared, Valerie disappeared, with the bathroom door slowly falling closed the only evidence that she had ever been there.

Skin pale, eyes wide open, and feeling faint, Sinclair rushed into a stall and shut the door behind her. She looked at the papers in her arm, then at the toilet—it'd be easy to flush them down and get rid of the evidence, “accidentally” lose a handful of hopefully important papers. She looked over her shoulder, under door, under the stall walls, then up at the walls and ceiling.

By coincidence, there was an air vent above her; about standard size, the same as the ones they used at Middleburg Elementary.

Sinclair started stuffing the triangles into her pockets, before she pulled down her collar and stuffed more of them down a secret pocket sewed inside her dress. She patted down and redistributed them over and over again, till all her pockets visible and hidden were barely bulging, making it look like she wasn't carrying anything at all.

Sinclair quietly panted for breath. She finally noticed the beads of sweat pouring down her brow, and pulled off several squares of toilet paper from the roll nearby. A frantic handful of minutes later, she had mopped herself up as best as she could, disposed of the damp tissues in the bin nearby, and flushed the toilet, just to be sure. She took a few moments to catch her breath before carefully, slowly opening the door and peeking out. There were a few new women that had stepped in, fixing their hair and make-up; talking; or using the facilities. She stepped out as calmly and quietly as she could, shooting back sheepish, embarrassed looks at those that turned to look at her.

She got herself a two drinks and a snack, and like nothing had ever happened, she was back to the party, announcing games, making small talk, and giving speeches as she did earlier. Sugar took her to the side during a break and asked her if anything was wrong. Sinclair smiled and replied, “Oh, just gettin' a little tired; this party's close to runnin' it's course for me, I think.”

Sugar looked at her suspiciously, but didn't probe much further.

Penn walked up some time after, a worried look on his face. He told her something about some sort of incident--she didn't bother with the details--and explained that they had to take Valerie home now. Sinclair frowned and said, “That's real unfortunate; hope it ain't anything serious!”

Penn smiled and thanked her for her concern, before hurriedly going back through the crowds and to Sashi.

Sinclair went through the final leg of the party, opening all of her presents and thanking the givers, making the formal farewells over the PA system, and announcing that the party was officially over, thank you for coming, you were free to stay until the hotel staff shooed you out.

The Harrises came up to her some time later, all of them thanking her for the invite--Tiana much less enthusiastic than the rest. Sinclair beamed at Neala and her parents, and gave Tiana a polite smile, before she said, “Thanks for comin' again, y'all! I'll see you two Monday.”

Neala and Sinclair shared knowing, worried looks for a moment as the Harrises walked off. Tiana noticed, but Sinclair was already busy with a different group that wanted to give personal thanks and farewells.

* * *

 

Sinclair and Sugar sat in the backseat together as they drove off from the hotel and back to the house, most every spare inch of the car filled to the brim with her presents, all expertly packed to maximize space and minimize damage. Helpers were waiting for them as soon as they got home, ready to haul everything off to get stored, sorted, and categorized, leaving Sinclair, free to excuse herself, head straight up to her room, then lock the door behind her and cover all the windows.

She pulled out every last one of the paper triangles from her pockets, dumping them all out to the floor as if they were on fire. She stared at the pile they had made, wondering how many of these were dummies, which of these would get destroyed once their contents were copied onto the others, or if every single one of these papers had better make it to school tomorrow morning when Valerie asked for them.

Sinclair busied herself with stashing the triangles into every last hidden seam and inconspicuous pocket in her bag, before she started hiding them in pencil cases, in between her notebooks, and even into the pockets of her clothes for school the next day. Then she repeated the process again, reshuffling the triangles, repacking her bag, and even choosing a different dress with more pockets.

When she was sure there was nothing more she could do to conceal or hide them, Sinclair checked her phone. No new messages. She walked over to her computer, and turned it on, anxiously staring at the screen as her system booted up. She looked at every messenger program Valerie was on, and every one of them showed same thing:

“Offline.”

She shot her a message, their code words for “We need to talk **ASAP.** ” She waited for a reply—fifteen seconds passed, then one minute, then ten. Absolutely nothing from Valerie, which meant only one thing: she really was offline. Probably passed out, sleeping, or with too few spoons to reply coherently.

Sinclair slowly spun around on her chair and hopped off, staggering back to her bed. She was about to collapse face first into the pile of pillows there and pass out from the exhaustion and the stress, when heard a sound:

The unique ringtone she had for when her parents called her over Skype.

Sinclair caught herself on the edge of her bed. Under normal circumstances, she would have been rushing to get to it; now, she started rushing all around her room, pulling off her party dress, slipping into something more casual, ruffling up her hair even more than it already was, before running to her computer, its speakers blaring the entire time.

Sinclair's hands flew to the mouse, the cursor to the answer button, but her finger stopped right over the button—she could have just let it ring, or decline the call, make up some sort of lie about falling asleep… but then how could she explain her doing this for the very first time after all these years, let alone why it had taken her so long to answer?

She swallowed the lump in her throat, and pressed the button.

Her parents appeared on screen again, Sinclair faked cringing from the glare, made herself look as bleary and fresh from sleep as she could.

The smiles on her parents' faces turned to concern. “Are you okay, Rosa?” Her mother asked.

“Yeah,” Sinclair lied. “Just woke up from a nap—seems this birthday took a lot more outta me than all the others...” She chuckled, a sliver of nervousness coming through.

Her mother's look of worry turned wary, her eyes growing steely and cold. “Rosa Sinclair Flores… you haven't gotten yourself in Big Trouble again, have you…?”

Her father slowly, carefully stepped off screen, her mother moved till she was dead center.

“What?” Sinclair replied. “O' course not! I learned my lesson from last time—last Big Mistake I'll ever make in my entire life, I swear!” She used every last reserve of willpower and energy she still had to force her sweat back, not letting even a single bead out.

Her mother kept on staring at her, quickly, efficiently hacking away at Sinclair's facade of cool and confidence. Then, just before Sinclair thought she was about to give and break down into a panicked, sobbing mess wailing for forgiveness, her mother stopped, and smiled.

“Good!” She said cheerfully. “You're becoming a big girl, Sinclair; in just a few years, the consequences of making mistakes are going to be that much worse for you. I'm proud to hear you've been keeping out of trouble, like you promised!”

“Mhmm!” Sinclair replied. “Straight and narrow, like ya said!”

“Well, keep on it, Rosa!” Her father said as he carefully butted himself back in. “Anyway, how was your party?”

“Great fun, _'tay!”_ Sinclair said, before she went on about the party, the games, the events, the people there, and the food—basically everything about it except for what had happened when Valerie cornered her in the bathroom. Eventually the conversation wound down, Sinclair finally relaxed, and her mother decided to let her off the hook—for now. 

“Here's to hoping we'll be back home with you soon, Rosa!” Her father said, smiling.

Sinclair forced her last fake smile of the day. “Yeah, here's to hoping! I love you, _'nay, 'tay.”_

“We love you too, Rosa.” Her mother said. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

Her parents hung up. As soon as their faces disappeared from the screen, Sinclair melted into her seat, completely, absolutely exhausted. Her eyes wandered to her bag in the corner, a good chunk of it filled with Valerie's latest scheme--one she had a feeling was the biggest, and riskiest she'd made yet.

“Yeah… keepin' out o' Big Trouble, walkin' on the straight an' narrow, that's what I'm doin'...” She mumbled to herself.


	43. Chapter 43

Monday. For reasons she didn't explain, Sinclair came to school extra early, quickly perching herself on the waiting shed up front and scanning the perimeter for any sign of Valerie. Normally, she would have gotten what few spies she had left to do the watching for her, or gotten the information second-hand from gossip, but now, she wasn't accepting anything less than seeing her with her own two eyes.

She unconsciously clutched her bag tightly to her chest; the plans were still in there, and though it was just her imagination, she could feel a powerful burning from them, like they'd eat right through the fabric of her bag and spill out all over the sidewalk.

Students came and went in greater and greater numbers as the minutes passed. Neala joined Sinclair on the bench, her own bag and pockets full of the plans, too. They gave each other knowing nods, before sweeping the area together, looking for any sign of Valerie, but still she remained elusive.

Then the last bus of the morning rolled up to the stop, and at the tail end of the kids pouring out and hurrying to make it to class or find a hiding spot before first bell was Valerie. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lip was curled into a deep scowl that told of hatred for everything and everyone in the whole wide world, and her pace was sluggish. It was a look that most parents would have taken as a sign to keep their kids at home, not send them school; the two wondered why when Sashi stepped out after her daughter, worriedly hovering over her, arms ready to grab her or support her, but forcibly kept by her sides.

Valerie shielded her eyes against the glare of the morning sun as she looked for Neala and Sinclair. Her eyes fell on them, they gave weak waves in greeting, then she started trudging towards them at a slightly faster pace. Sashi walked with her, always keeping a step behind.

“You sure you don't want to go back home today?” Sashi asked.

“I'm sure.” Valerie grunted.

“Honey, you know nobody's forcing you to go to school, right? People get sick, it's excused! I'll do whatever it takes to prove it to whoever says you're not, too...” She added darkly.

“I'm not that sick.”

“Last chance, Valerie; I can spare money for a cab if you don't want to--”

A few steps away from the shed, Valerie spun around and looked up at her mother. Her big blue eyes narrowed, her gaze grew steely, and her tone turned low and ominous—a state Neala and Sinclair had only ever seen on Sashi till then. “Mommy? _I don't want to stay home today._ I'm **not** taking a sick day, and I'm **never** going to take another sick day **ever again** for as long as I live if **I** have anything to say about it.”

Sashi opened her mouth to speak, expression full of concern. Valerie's resolve never wavered, still looking up at her mother and glaring for as long as it'd take. Sashi's face changed from worry to horror, the kind that came from recognizing something you hoped _not_ to see.

Neala hopped off the bench and quickly stepped up to Valerie's side, placing her hand on her shoulder. “I'll make sure she makes it through this day okay, Mrs. Kobayashi.” She said with a confident smile.

Sinclair bit her lip, whined, and hopped off the bench after them, placing her own hand on Valerie's other shoulder. “Ditto that...” She said with a lot less confident look.

Sashi shut her mouth. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let out a long, quiet sigh. “Okay. Have a nice day at school, honey.” She said dejectedly.

Valerie's whole body drooped as released the tension in them. “Have a nice day at work, mommy.” She gave her mother a weak smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Valerie.” Sashi said before she dipped to the ground, giving Valerie a quick hug before she spun around and walked away from the scene as quickly as she could.

Valerie smiled at both her friends, before her expression turned serious once more. “Office, lunch.” She said quietly.

First bell rang. The trio gathered their bags, walking down the halls together till they reached the divide between their grades and went their separate ways.

* * *

Throughout the entire morning, Sinclair couldn't focus on her classes, let alone relax. She wasn't new to smuggling incriminating documents around, but she'd never done it with this many—usually she'd have hired someone to do it for her, or Valerie was handling it.

Every time the teacher called her name was cause for alarm, Sinclair just barely screaming or yelping in terror. Every time she unzipped her bag to fetch something, her eyes worriedly glanced up at the other students, to see if someone would somehow notice the inconspicuous bulges in the seams, wonder what exactly what was inside her pencil case that shouldn't have been there. Every time someone asked her a question, it'd always take her just a little bit too long to respond, and ask them to repeat themselves one too many times.

In the classes she shared with Neala, it was hard not to notice that she was much more calm and collected than her, acting exactly as she did every day except for a few extra precautions to keep anyone from finding out about the plans she was carrying. “Probably because she'd be convicted as an accomplice, than the principal offender,” Sinclair thought bitterly.

And as she'd later find out, Valerie's condition seemed not to have affected her studies in the slightest. She showed that she was perfectly capable of answering, taking tests, and participating in class with the same clarity, accuracy, and skill she always had, even if she looked like something straight out of a horror movie, or a front page report about some mysterious new (non-chronic) disease baffling hospitals. Teachers, former and current Cereal Chillers, and other students who'd never paid her any attention till then constantly asked her if she wanted to be sent home or to the clinic, but all eventually stopped as it was soon clear that Valerie seemed to just look worse than she actually was.

The bell rang for lunch, and Sinclair had never been happier to hear it. She ducked out of class as quickly and inconspicuously as she could, hurrying down the familiar path before she reached the door to her office. She didn't hesitate to stick her key in and duck into the room as quickly as she could; with the Game ended, the Players disbanded, and the Cereal Chillers almost completely abolished, the only real threat was dust and the school suddenly starting a campaign to reclaim or reuse abandoned rooms like this.

Sinclair shut the door and made doubly sure it was locked. Then, she closed her eyes, put her back to it, and sighed in relief.

“Hi Sinclair.”

Sinclair barely missed smashing her head on the doorknob as she launched straight up into the air. Her second heart attack under the age of ten wasn't quite as terrible as the first, but it still left her clutching her chest and staring with wide open eyes at the cause:

Valerie, sitting at her usual seat, her head slumped against the back of her chair. Time had gotten rid of some of the redness in her eyes, but she still looked _far_ from okay. “'How in the Sam Hill did you get her so fast?'” She said flatly. “I got out early from class, said I was heading to the bathroom. And don't worry, I'm pretty sure that was the last time I can predict what you're going to say for a while...”

Sinclair sucked in a deep breath, and let out a pained sigh. “Good to hear, y'all...” She mumbled as she made her way to her chair. She opened her bag and pulled out her lunch, a container full of leftover treats from the party yesterday. She offered them to Valerie, but she took one look at one specific food in the mix, her eyes opened wide in horror, and she quickly shook her head.

Sinclair shrugged and just went on with lunch—nervous and antsy as she was with this new operation, it was only going to get worse if she was skipped lunch.

Neala came knocking soon after; Valerie let her in; while Sinclair put her lunch away for the moment, and out the plans went from their bags and their pockets, till the desk was almost completely covered in them.

“Did you guys lose anything?” Valerie asked as she stood on her seat and unfolded the papers.

“Pretty sure I didn't.” Neala replied as she did the same.

Sinclair groaned. “No, and y'all better believe I did everythin' I could to keep that from happenin'.” She replied as she picked up and unfolded another triangle.

“Good job, guys,” Valerie smiled.

They worked in silence afterward, unfolding all the plans till all Neala and Sinclair could really do was hand Valerie a sheet as she reorganized the plans, or set them down on the desk in a quickly growing mosaic as the scribbles, symbols, and incomplete drawings found their missing partners. Valerie set down the last piece, and sat back down in her seat. Neala and Sinclair examined the finished puzzle—much less incomprehensible and cryptic though still difficult to understand, except for a clearly printed word right in the very center of it all:

Elise.

“For clarification, she's the unknown variable we need to get this plan to work.” Valerie said. “We need her to work _with_ us, instead of working _against_ her this time.”

Neala frowned uneasily.

Sinclair nodded slowly. “Is this why y'all have been all buddy-buddy with her after Flaming-O Show?” She asked.

Valerie recoiled. “What? _No!_ Listen,  I know what it's like to go through what she did: to be treated like nothing, to be scared and worried all the time, to be everyone's punching bag for kicks and giggles if they're not just straight up ignoring you— _n_ _o one_ deserves to be treated like that, even after all the thing's she's done.

“This plan's not just going to undo anything, magically make things all better again, but it _will_ make sure that everyone will live a little better in this school. Nothing I'm ever going to do is going to be enough to apologize for Flaming-O Show, but at least I can use powers of mine for something _good_ for once...”

A  silence fell over the three of them.

Valerie suddenly stared at the floor and blushed. “… Besides, now that I've actually hung out with her, she's… pretty cool, actually, and I _really_ want to do this for her...”

Neala quietly choked in her seat. Sinclair stared at Valerie, her mouth slowly dropping open, before she shut it and shook her head.

Valerie eventually turned back to face her friends, a little bit of red still on her cheeks. “Anyway, the plan's basically turning Elise into a face for the Cereal Chillers—someone on the right side of the law that people will believe, listen to, and willingly help, no questions of any _actual_ significance asked. All this time we've been doing things underground, now it's time to go legit—kind of.

“We're not going to use her to convince the administration it'll be a good idea to legalize the Fight Club, but we _will_ use her tohelp make legal ways to service that market, like a new set of punching bags that _aren't_ constantly falling apart, and a new floor for the boxing ring so we can finally have a proper match that doesn't involve herding someone into the Hole.

“And, if we need some return of investment on it, there's always bookies and under the table deals.”

Sinclair nodded. “So y'all are proposin' we turn the Cereal Chillers into your friendly neighbourhood criminal cartel—spyin', smugglin', and occasionally threatenin' to keep the halls safe, the lights on, and the budgets always makin' it where it needs to go.”

“Yep.”

“And to do this, we're gon' need Elise to work with us—somehow.”

“Yep.”

“And she's either goin' to say yes to this plan, or she's gon' turn us all in, and get us into Very Big Trouble.”

“Yep—which is why you can say 'No' to this plan, and I'll think of something else.”

Sinclair nodded. “Valerie, you realize this plan is completely, absolutely  _insane_ , right?”

Valerie smiled in reply.

Sinclair took a long, deep breath, and slowly let it go. “Y'all probably have a long, long,  _long_ list o' solid evidence and water-proof arguments that basically say my personal feelin's on the matter is the only reason I'll be justified in sayin' 'No,' don't ya?”

Valerie nodded.

Sinclair closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. After a long silence, she asked, “What d'ya need me to do?”

Valerie smiled. “Would it be too much to  ask you to tell Elise that you've got an offer she can't refuse…?”


	44. Chapter 44

“No.” Elise growled.

Sinclair kept on smiling. “I'm sorry, Elise, but what was that ya just said?”

Elise scowled.  **“No.** _ Nada. Nein. Ayoko. _ ”

Sinclair's smile still didn't falter. “ Would this be because of any issues y 'all  have  with the plan? I can assure you, this whole thing is completely, absolutely fool-proof, nothin' short of a huge,  unexpected catastrophe can ruin it!” She quickly rapped her hand on the wood of the library table they sat  at .

Elise crossed her arms. “I'm still not doing it.”

“There any modifications or changes to this little agreement that can get you to say 'Yes,' then?”

“Remove the Cereal Chillers.” Elise spat. “Did you _really_ expect that I'm just going to work with  those _psychopaths_ , simply because they're promising me a way out of the very bottom of the social ladder? What do they think I am, some kind of broken, desperatesocial climber who'll take any chance to get out of the muck?!”

Nearby ,  Middleburg Elementary's  librarian put his finger to his lips and shushed them. Elise and Sinclair shot him apologetic looks; he smiled, nodded, and went back to listening to his headphones without students' voices joining the likes of Metallica,  Iron Maiden , and Black Sabbath.

“I can assure you they've had a change of heart since the incident, Elise.” Sinclair whispered.

“Oh, you mean when they humiliated me in public, traumatized me for life, and _ruined_ my formerly best dress?” Elise whispered back. “You say this body of faceless and nameless criminals have finally started to regret their actions, I think that they're just covering their own sorry behinds and want to grab a good opportunity to use me again!”

Sinclair  winced . “ Okay, I will admit y'all have a very valid concern there but--”

“Call them.”

Sinclair paused. “Pardon…?”

“Call them. Call the leader of the Cereal Chillers, or whatever group of prepubescent evil geniuses are behind all this madness, and tell them that if they want me to help them out, they're going to have to ask me in person, and prove that they're as sorry as you say they are.”

Sinclair smiled apologetically, about to concoct an excuse and try to negotiate with Elise once more. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar face peeking out from behind a nearby stack.

“Please no.” Sinclair mouthed.

“I'm sorry.” Valerie mouthed back.

“Is something the matter, Sinclair...?” Elise asked.

Sinclair quickly forced her eyes away from Valerie. “Oh, just figurin' some things out, like how exactly the Chillers can prove to ya they've only got the best of intentions!” She replied quickly.

Elise scowled. “Well you better think fast, because if they don't prove it to me within the next fifteen minutes, the deal is  _off._ ” She said before she hopped off her chair, angrily stomping off to the library's exit.

I nternally,  Sinclair paled  and crumpled ; externally, she  remained sitting up straight and smiling. “I'll make sure to tell them that right away!”  She called after Elise.

S he  watched her go until her  back was well and truly turned, t hen  pulled out her phone. She was in the middle of typing a frantic message to Valerie when she heard something,  a line she'd remember for the rest of her life, the one that told her her life going to get ruined even worse than Elise's was that fateful day at the auditorium:

“Hey, Elise? Can I talk to you for a moment? In private?”

It was Valerie, “coincidentally” running into Elise. Sinclair watched in mute horror as Elise reluctantly agreed and the two of them slunk off deeper into the library, out of sight and hearing range. She looked down at her phone and the now useless message on it; she opened the notepad app instead, and started making a rough draft of her plans in case the school found out about all her illegal activities, she was expelled from school and permanently banned from pretty much every formal educational institution in the world.

What she'd say to her grandmother and her parents to explain the Big Trouble she had gotten herself into _this_ time  was another issue altogether .

Sinclair was struggling to decide if she should make a sympathy plea involving her parents being trapped abroad and the humiliation, depression, trauma that had caused when someone tapped her on the arm. She looked up from her screen, and came face to face with Valerie.

She didn't look happy. She didn't look scared, worried, or concerned. She just looked like nothing. No emotions, no expression on her face, and no inflection in her voice as she asked, “Do you have any plans on Wednesday evening?”

Sinclair slowly, carefully shook her head.

“Good. Elise said yes, but she wants us over at her place so she can ask us some personal questions. Also? She knows I'm Kitty Cat, you're Calico, and Neala's Leona. I don't know _how_ , she just does.” Valerie said before she turned around, and shuffled out of the library like a zombie.

S inclair looked back down at her phone and her partially written plead for guilty as charged.  She  saved it just in case. Then, she made a note in her calendar that she was staying over at Elise's place on Wednesday,  and added “Ask gran ny  for permission to stay over ” on her to-do list.

* * *

Like Neala and Sinclair, Elise lived in upscale housing at Middleburg's better districts. Unlike Neala and Sinclair, her  apartment  was much less sparsely decorated,  had floor-to-ceiling glass  windows  showing of the impressive skyline and the streets below, and  almost everything the Yapps owned was stored away in drawers,  shelves, and cabinets, or just kept out of sight.

Each room was done in a monochromatic colour scheme, with a few but very obvious decorations in vibrant, brilliant, complementary or clashing colours. The friendly, lemon yellow kitchen had a large vase of purple flowers on the center of the table. The warm browns of the dining room were broken by streaks of bright gold for accents and ornate teal dishes on the table filled with candles or small items. The relaxing blue of the living room was broken by the orange tint of the wooden coffee table and the entertainment cabinet, alongside the blacks of the TV, the Yapp's game console and peripherals, and the rainbow of colours from the magazines, newspaper clippings, glitter, paper glue, and scrap books on the table top.

To Sinclair, the peace,  the calm, and the sheer openness of everything was unnerving, like the  place had been done up for a shoot rather than somewhere people actually lived in. About the only things that made her feel slightly better about being there were the pictures,  mostly  of Elise and her family,  sometimes business partners or relatives, and  rarely a panoramic shot of some exotic location .

There was a strange absence of any baby pictures, pictures of a younger Elise, or recent ones that weren't taken sometime within that year, but Sinclair didn't question it—she was here to provide answers, after all.

Elise shuffled them all into her living room, sitting them down in a close group on the largest couch there. “ _None of you_ are stepping into my bedroom unless you can convince me you can all be trusted.” She muttered darkly before she gave Valerie a very powerful glare.

Valerie avoided her gaze and obediently sat herself down on the couch. Sinclair and Neala sat by her sides as usual, for their own safety, security and peace of mind as well as Valerie's. Elise sat down on a nearby ottoman. Somehow, in spite of the collection of colourful magazines and the entertainment center behind her, she still looked intimidating and scary.

“Anything I can get you young ladies?” Mr. Yapp asked as he stood by the arch separating the kitchen and the living room, oblivious to the tension between them. All of them politely replied no, Mr. Yapp nodded, and ducked back into the kitchen. “Just holler if you change your minds! I'll just be here getting started on supper. Oh, trust me, you're all going to want to stay for a plate soon as I get things simmering right and proper...”

Sinclair didn't want to be here, period, but it wasn't as if she had much of a choice. The four of them waited, listening in to Mr. Yapp working in the kitchen till they were sure he was good and distracted.  Elise quickly turned to the three Cereal Chillers,  green eyes glimmering with a mix of wariness and disgust.

“Alright: Neala, I know your story; Sinclair, I'll find out yours soon enough, but first and foremost”--the hostility in Elise's eyes disappeared, turning into worry and fear--”Valerie, just _who_ or _what_ are you, really?” 

V alerie fidgeted in her seat  for a moment . “I'm the only daughter of my parents, Penn and Sashi Kobayashi; I was born with a chronic illness no one can really explain; we're not exactly the richest or well-to-do family out there so I go to a public school; I've spent the past couple of months being Sinclair's spy, then forming the Cereal Chillers; and…  I  was the one who staged Flaming-O Show and turned you into a human flamingo.”

She looked away. “Sorry.” She mumbled, before forcing her eyes back to Elise.

Elise scowled. “Okay, that much I've figured out, but I want you to tell me all the things I _can't_ —like how exactly did you pull all of this off, and _somehow_ escape attention from the authorities? Last I heard, children our age _don't really pull off_ juvenile versions of crime syndicates and malevolent secret societies.”

Valerie looked away again, sweat starting to pour down her brow.

“… To be honest, I've been wonderin' that myself, Val...” Sinclair added.

“Same here...” Neala quietly mumbled.

Valerie frowned, before looking at the others. “I can't tell you guys. I have _really_ good reasons, but I can't tell you them either, alright?”

Elise groaned. “Ugh,  _seriously?!_ What, it's not like you'll have to kill us if you told us, right?”

Valerie fell deathly, ominously, unnervingly silent. The others stared at her, the expressions on their faces changing through a wide variety of emotions, none of them positive.

“… Okay...” Elise said quietly, before turning to Sinclair. “So…let's just never speak of this ever again... Sinclair?”

S inclair blinked, frowned,  then  sigh ed heavily. “ Y'all could say it all started a few years back, when I overheard somethin' I was better off not  hearin'… specifically, the name o' a legal firm of supposed miracle workers. ”

“Hold on, let me guess: Strump, Matthew, and Hatem?” Elise said.

Sinclair paused. “… Yes, actually. Uh, mind if I ask how exactly y'all know about this?”

“My mother's a lawyer who specializes in 'problematic and messy' cases; it's a rare day when she _isn't_ talking about who got into what kind of trouble.” Elise explained. “Client confidentiality and all that, however, so I never know the names with unless the media's already blown it wide open.”

Sinclair nodded. “Anyway, as you might have already realized, my parents ain't stayin' overseas 'cause o' any voluntary reasons or a lack o' funds. Somethin' happened that done got roped 'em into a big ol' mess, one that ain't likely to solve itself anytime soon. The only thing you guys need to know is that it was a 'Wrong Place, Wrong Time' sort o' deal.

“We tried to get 'em back here, o' course. Hired lawyers, had their goldarned case reopened and shut over and over again, and the one time, we had to prove that it actually existed after the original got lost through a 'series of unfortunate accidents.'” Sinclair almost spat, before Elise glared at her and pointed at the nice, clean floors of her apartment, and she stopped herself. “Unfortunately, my family only has so much funds to spare for legal matters, lawyers of our price range can only do so much, and to untangle the mess my parents found 'emselves in, you'll need a masochist, a lot of cash and time, or connections—or all three, given how three lawyers have just plain told us in fancy talk, 'Y'all are on your own, I'm out.'

“It's been a few years since we just let it lie because we had to stop spendin' money to save it for other, important things. Granny said we'd just have to wait for a miracle or a hero, somethin' or someone that'll do what so nobody did before. I thought _those people_ were it. Granny and my parents thought so, too—only issue was, there weren't no budget for it. We _did_ have the money they were askin' up front, but it was earmarked for somethin' else.”

Sinclair fell silent and looked down. “Specifically, money set aside for my tuition.

“I'm not gonna get into the details of how I did it; all y'all need to know was shortly after I sent the money, some folks found out just exactly how that firm performed its 'miracle turnarounds,' and they became the pariahs of the legal world. We got the money back, and got our part in it shushed up—it helped that they had much bigger clients whose names made better copy and scandal. I was still ready to get sent to a nice, reputable school 'cept for one big issue:

“Those places generally want assurance that their new students aren't the kind who're capable of the kind of mischief adult, career criminals are usually known for.”

Sinclair leaned back, and sighed. “There were other reasons—logistics, distance, school's own reputation, but the biggest one was the fact that I had that big ole' black mark on my record. And before you ask about home schoolin' or private tutors: we're businesspeople, not educators, and you'd be surprised at the prices half-decent ones charge. So off I went to the only school that wouldn't be able to refuse me: Middleburg Elementary. I found out exactly just how bad the situation was in there, and for the sake of self-preservation and keepin' some semblance of sanity, I decided to start overtakin' or gettin' a huge stake in all the mischief that goes on there.

“As y'all know, to survive there, y'all gotta be smart, y'all gotta be good at hidin', or y'all gotta be tough an' scary. I'm not fast on my feet, and y'all know just how well I do under persuasion of the violent kind, so I decided to make sure that it'd be in everyone's best interests that I remain in one piece and my money stays my money. 'Everybody's lookin' for somethin',' my family always says, and I aimed find out what it was.

“Obviously, my record ain't gotten any more pristine since then, and I haven't saved an orphanage or started a cause to fight any sort of injustice in the world, something that'd make people ignore serious mess-ups because _obviously_ you've gone on the straight and narrow. And frankly, with business goin' as good as it was, I had little incentive to leave.

“It felt nice. Bein' in control of things. Steerin' things how I wanted it, where I wanted it, when I wanted it. Then I wanted a little _too much_ control, and tried to get it, startin' with takin' a risk involvin' a new girl by the name of Valerie Yvonne Kobayashi.”

Sinclair stared at the floor. “And as y'all know too, things spiraled out o' control and outta my hands. Too late, I realized I didn't have any control anymore, someone else was at the wheel, and all I could do was see where they'd take me…” She quickly looked up. “Anyway that's my story. Now enough o' the past; there's a lesson in all that, but I'd rather we talk about the future first. Elise, we said enough to change your mind?”

Before Elise could reply, Valerie turned to Sinclair and spoke up. “Hey Sinclair?" She said. "I think I know the hero you need..."


	45. Chapter 45

“No thanks, Valerie.” Sinclair said.

Valerie opened her mouth, about to launch into a speech, paused, then shut it. “Wait, _what?_ Don't you want to at least know his name?”

Sinclair sighed. “Frankly, Val, if I'm bein' honest with you, I'd rather not; I've heard this same speech over and over again from so many people, I don't want to hear it comin' from your lips, too. 'Sides, and no offense, but who in the _world_ could y'all know that can get my parents outta a mess that a dozen or so other lawyers couldn't?”

“My Uncle Boone, that's who!” Valerie shot back.

Sinclair blinked. Then, she stared. Finally, her lips curled into a scowl, and her eyes turned cold and steely. _“Val--!”_

“Boone _Wiseman_?” Elise muttered in disbelief. _“The_ Boone Wiseman is your _uncle?”_

“Well, technically we're not related by blood or law, we just call him that because he and my daddy are really close friends, but yeah, I guess you could say he is.” Valerie quickly explained.

The anger inside Sinclair gave way to confusion. She turned to Elise and said, “Wait, y'all know him?”

Elise shot her a look. “Mensa? Bar topnotcher, 2% shy of a perfect score? Never lost a single case, no matter how hopeless the situation, set up to be one of the greatest lawyers of all time, a clear candidate for the new chief justice supreme if he hadn't voluntarily bowed out and pursued some mysterious vocation that'd be a 'better use of his talents'? He's practically a living legend in the legal community!

"The better question is: do _you_ know _him_?”

Sinclair's jaw slowly dropped, before sheturned back to Valerie. “Is this the _same_ Uncle Boone that doesn't seem to be marching to a different drummer so much as an entirely different instrument he invented himself?”

“Wears flip-flops all the time?” Neala continued. “Heavy-set, always dresses casual, seems a little… no offense… off?”

“Same Uncle Boone who dun told us all those stories about the time he was a narrator for a noir mystery with plants instead o' people; 'saved the day' by eatin' Kale Flakes, gettin' superpowers, and stoppin' an evil Mlikman from turnin' all the cereal crops soggy; _and_ saved the planet from getting' blown up by aliens via winnin' an intergalactic gameshow/trial court?” Sinclair added.

“Who also supposedly destroyed this city thanks to an accident involving your poppa's Christmas present, radioactive waste, and a litter of adorable puppies?” Neala finished.

“Yeah, he surprised everyone.” Valerie said flatly. “But anyway, he's the best lawyer I know, and probably one of the best in the whole wide world! If there's anyone that can help out your parents, it's him!” She smiled.

Sinclair stared at her  again, for a good long while  this time . Finally, she shook her head. “Okay, ya know what? If y'all want to ask a huge favour of your uncle and waste his time, skills, and resources, y'all go on  and do it without me ! I'm just gonna on focus the thin g s I  _know_ are possible.”  She turned to Elise. “ Do we have y'all on for this plan or what?”

Elise nodded. “Yes,  now that I've  finally  got ten a handle on how _well-adjusted,_ _sane,_ and  _emotionally stable_ you lot are. E nough talk-- let's hear  about  what this latest ploy of yours is  _really_ all about.”

Valerie kept on looking at Sinclair. Sinclair pointedly refused to look at her. Neala patted Valerie's shoulder, she sighed, and turned back to Elise.

“For starters, I wasn't lying when I said we'd help you get you back to the top of the social ladder…”

* * *

Ms. Thorne frowned. “I don't know… after what happened with the last student-run project I approved… I'm afraid I'm going to have to say--”

“Please, Ms. Thorne?” Elise asked, her green eyes wide open and pleading. “I _promise_ it'll be different this time. I know things went _horribly_ wrong the last time—and of all the people in this school, I should know—but I don't think this is the way to go. Do you _really_ want to end student-run projects forever just because of the one incident?”

Ms. Thorne frowned.  “Well, not  _forever_ , obviously; it's a very important outlet for students to express themselves, use their skills, and develop talents…  b ut… it just seems a little soon, you know?”

“But maybe it is, maybe it isn't! Maybe this is just what we need here at school—proof that we students can express ourselves and do something for big for ourselves, our community, and the school, without fear of humiliation, rejection, or sabotage...” and so on and so forth. 

A good fifteen minutes later, Elise walked out of  the teacher's  lounge with a letter and very important signature s on it. She looked around the halls  to check if they were deserted  or people weren't paying attention to her , before discretely moving up to a locker, and shoving  the paper  up the slat s . Inside, Valerie pulled it the rest of the way in and stashed it  in her dress  for safekeeping.

“What's next?” Elise asked quietly.

“What's next is that things really get moving.” Valerie replied as she pulled out her phone. “Buckle up, 'cause we're not stopping till we see 'Operation: Rise of the Cuckoo' to the very end...”

* * *

After school in the girl's locker room, a private meeting between Cheri and Sinclair was happening, both sets of doors locked from the inside, the two of them sitting just across each other on the benches, and Valerie in the vent recording the whole deal just in case.

“… So as y'all can see, it might not _earn_ as much as the old arrangement, but this _does_ have the advantage of gettin ' the administration and the publiceven further on the Cheer Queen's good side; ain't just cash that gets new uniforms, equipment, and gym space, y'all know what I mean?” Sinclair smiled.

Cheri looked up from her written copy and smiled back. “Don't we all know it! Gotta admit, Sinclair, this plan is pretty solid, well-thought out, _and_ appealing! I'm sure I can mobilize the other girls and get things started within the next three days, but I _do_ have one really big question gnawing at the back of my mind...”

Sinclair beamed. “Fire away!”

“Are the Cereal Chillers behind all this? Because feels like the kind of astoundingly complex, incredibly risky, and questionable-at-best kind of wide-reaching conspiracies and plots they're known for. A _lot_ of these things you're trying to do's going require a _lot_ of information that you just can't get that easily, not to mention where or _how_ exactlyyou're going to be getting all the funds and resources you need for this...”

“Uh--” Sinclair's eyes flicked up to the vent where Valerie was hiding. Though neither could see the other, Valerie got her point across well enough. Sinclair turned back to Cheri. “Yes. They are, and, yes, I'm part of it, too.” She said carefully.

Cheri nodded, pleased. “Thought so! You guys taking any in new members? 'Cause I've wanted to join you folks for a _long_ while now...”

Sinclair paused. “… Well… we are, but first, I gotta test that y'all ain't just askin' to hand us over to the authorities...”

Cheri laughed, before her friendly, chipper tone suddenly turned uncharacteristically dark and ominous. “Oh, _trust_ me, that's about the _last_ thing I want to do; the Cereal Chillers are going to **rule** this school, and I aim to rule _with_ them.”

Sinclair stared at her, suddenly feeling much less safe and secure. “Kitty Cat...?” She whimpered, eyes flicking back and forth between Cheri in front of her, and Valerie stuck in the vent.

After a long, tense few moments of silence, Valerie stuck her finger through the vent and wiggled it. “Hi Cheri, welcome to the Cereal Chillers! You get to chose your own cool codename now.”

Cheri  looked up to the vent above her and waved,  now back to her usual sunniness . “Hey Val erie !  Thanks for  taking  me  in !  I'd have  _never_ guessed you'd be behind all this,  but now that I do, it all makes _so_ _much sense!_ C all me _super_ impressed,” s he said.  “ Do I need to pick  out that name  now, or can I think about it  for a while ?”

“It can wait, along with your first official orders. I'll contact you both later, I need to figure out some things now that you're one of us. See ya Sinclair, Cheri.” Valerie rolled off and away.

Sinclair's face fell in horror. She jumped off the bench, about to yell after Valerie, but she was already deep into the system and well out of earshot before she could get a word out.

“Guess kindness really does come back to you, huh?” Cheri said, smiling.

“Yeah… that it does...” Sinclair said carefully as she slowly turned back to Cheri. “Well, I guess that does it for our meetin', very happy we could come to an agreement! If y'all will excuse me, I gotta get myself home 'fore granny starts to worry. See ya around, Cheri!” She waved.

“Bye Sinclair, have a nice trip!” Cheri replied, calmly waving back.

“Thank ya kindly!” Sinclair replied, before she made a break for doors. She put her hand on pushbar knob, the door rattled and shook, still closed. She tried again and again, growing more and more panicked as they stayed shut. She was almost about to ram it with all her weight when Cheri put her arm on her shoulder.

Sinclair froze. Cheri chuckled softly. “You left the lock on, silly.” She said as she put her hand onto the long bolt that kept the doors together. “Oh, mind if I ask another question before you go?”

Sinclair made a little whimper that sounded like, “Sure.”

“We going to pull a Flaming-O Show anyone else? Because I've got this _huge_ list of people I'd _really_ love to see _destroyed.”_ Cheri smiled cheerfully, tone still happy and peppy.

Sinclair gulped. “'Fraid we ain't ruinin' peoples lives no more, sorry...” She muttered as she pressed herself against the door as hard as she could.

“Aww… oh well, that's the way it goes, I suppose!” Cheri pulled slid the bar out of the way with one smooth, practiced motion. The doors unlocked and Sinclair went stumbling out to the halls outside. “See you for realsies, Sinclair!”

Sinclair squeaked and shuffled down the halls as quickly as she could.

* * *

It was your quintessential mom and pop store, only less charming, dirtier, and run by an old woman who definitely wasn't “getting along just fine” with the business it turned up. Valerie looked up at the products on the shelves: daily necessities like toilet paper, cooking oil, and condiments like salt and hot sauce; popular snack products like sodas, bags of chips, and a few boxes of the more popular cereals—none of them Flaming-O's and most of them Monster Munchies, to her distaste—and finally, your usual smattering of popular magazines, a few independent prints, condoms and other contraceptives, and a shelf filled with homemade products for sale.

It seemed that the only reason the store was still open was because people were willing to pay a little extra money for the convenience of walking down a block or two, rather than taking the bus further into the city, she thought.

Penn put on his best smile as he approached the owner/cashier with his stack of Middleburg Elementary fliers, clipboard, and spiel to try and convince her to lend some help or funds the school desperately needed. Sashi and Valerie went off to the aisles, trying to figure out what to buy for politeness' sake.

“I'm sorry, much as I'd love to help, I really can't,” the owner said after Penn finished his initial sales pitch. “Business just isn't what it used to be these days, and I'm sure you know how every dollar counts.”

Penn smiled hopefully, just like he did with all the others they'd been to that day. “Oh, don't I ever! I _also_ know that I sometimes find myself with a little extra cash sometimes…” He said, before launching into the rest of the lines to try and convince her to donate anyway—ones Sugar guaranteed would get an effect, “if not now, then later, when they tell their friends.”

Unfortunately, this particular woman just could not be swayed. “I'm really very sorry, but there's just really nothing I can give.” She said testily. “Is there anything _else_ I can help you with?” She made not so subtle, hopeful looks at the things for sale all around the counter.

Valerie and Sashi took that as their cue to walk up with a handful of items on hand. The owner's mood improved dramatically as money changed hands, and even more so when Valerie used her big blue eyes, her “innocent child” look, and a few well-timed thank yous and other courtesies to great effect.

“Thanks for your time, ma'am!” Penn said as the three of them started to leave the store. “Please keep us in mind, because who knows? You just might find something to give or a way to help out!”

“Oh, I will!” The owner lied, politely smiling at the three of them before she went back to a book she was reading.

All three adults backs turned, and hidden from the one camera by her much taller parents and a display, Valerie discretely slipped in an unmarked envelope out from inside a hidden pocket of her dress and into one of the shelves, agile hands covering it and keeping it safe from discovery till the owner restocked the shelves later.

The Kobayashis stepped back out to the street, and into a waiting car from Sinclair's family, complete with driver. The doors shut and windows tinted, and the driver paid generously to be silent and willfully deaf to everything but requests and directions, they had total privacy.

Valerie settled herself in her mother's lap. Sashi gently stroked her hair, making the out-of-control brown curls even wilder till she “fell asleep.”

“You still think this is worth skipping heroing today?” Sashi asked quietly.

Penn shrugged. “We won't know for a while, that's for sure.” He replied just as quietly. “Hey, who knows? Maybe one of the people we're going to hit up today might secretly have huge stacks of cash they've been saving for a good cause, like ours.” He smiled.

Sashi didn't smile back, Penn's face turned serious. “Look… if this doesn't work out, we'll find a different way, okay? We're heroes; we always, always save the day—or in this case, figure out how to help the school. Besides--” he gestured to Valerie.

Sashi looked down at her, then back at up Penn, smiling. “Right.”

Valerie smiled, too. So far, everything was going according to plan… all she needed to do now was maintain, supervise, and most importantly, wait.


	46. Chapter 46

_Several months later..._

“Free snacks and discounts on selected products from the cafeteria so long as you're an active Lunch Duty Cadet! Get delicious homemade goods and home-cooked meals for a quarter to half the price! Remember: it's not child labour, it's involving ourselves with the community, giving back, and helping out, mostly because we haven't met the legal definition~!” Cheri sang as she and Iris sat on a table outside the main entrance to the cafeteria, microphones and fliers in front of them, and cables wired into the school PA system running up the wall behind her.

“Some guys who call themselves Bronson and Bronson are looking for hackers to test out their brand new security system,” Iris grumbled. “Want to make a bunch of adults feel stupid, and make money out of it? Take a flier already!”

“The new Mixed Martial Arts club/summer workshop is opening soon, to be headed by none other than Mrs. Sashi Kobayashi, who is generously volunteering her time to teach us all about self-defense, control, and discipline! It also just so happens to also be a safe, legal space to vent out any and all violent impulses. Also, I'm legally obliged to tell you that no, she will _not_ teach you how to kick someone's head off their shoulders, nor tear someone's heart out of their chest, nor the 'secret One-Finger Death Punch,' nor does she know any of those techniques in the first place, so quote, 'don't even bother asking!'”

The rest of the lunch time announcements about extracurricular activities and offers in the school and outside continued on a similar note, with volunteers and fellow Cheer Queens answered questions, delivered spiels, and passed out fliers to the students flowing in for lunch.

Though most of them inevitably ended up in the trash, there were a number of them that were stowed away for later use or reference, just like the plan was counting on.

Valerie and Neala waited by the sidelines, waiting for the crowds to thin before making their way into the cafeteria. As always, there a giant line by the main counter, students shuffling their trays along and getting them filled up with the days offerings, but now there were smaller crowds and lines by the stalls offering pastries, foods that were too complex or expensive for the school to make, or home-cooked meals away from home.

They'd brought their own lunches that day, however, and just headed to their usual table, still way over at the edge of the cafeteria. Chatter and activity filtered in all around them as they walked; most were of the usual topics like the latest news from celebrities and the whatever was trending at the moment; others were discussing classes; others still the new after-school clubs and activities that had sprung a few months ago; and one table was critiquing the artworks put on the formerly bare walls, debating hotly amongst themselves the chosen pieces from this week's art classes, and if a few popular artists were starting to lose their touch or shouldn't have used so many pipe cleaners in that particular work.

In the corners, the members of new safety monitor force made sure things weren't too disorderly and chaotic, and that there wasn't any serious mischief going around. Above them, the new security cameras provided an extra layer of assurance.

Sinclair was already at their table, her lunchbox and a notebook open in front of her, a sandwich in one hand and a pen in the other. They greeted each other and sat down at their usual spots.

Valerie looked at Sinclair writing down numbers and figures on the page. “I thought you had to stop doing the books yourself.” She said quietly.

They had to be almost completely outsourced to an actual, legal accountant as they started legitimizing more and more of their activities, and people were getting suspicious and questioning of where the resources and money was coming from and going to.

“I did—this is extra credit for math class.” Sinclair explained. “They want us to manually crunch the numbers for a feasibility project—see if it's worth partnerin' with some supplier to produce officially licensed merchandise, maybe a cute little phone dangly featurin' our school mascot, and a few friends of theirs.

“Ya know: normal kid stuff.” She smiled a cat-like grin.

Valerie smiled back. “Right.” She opened her backpack, pulled out a snack-box of Flaming-O's, and a plastic spoon. She laid them down on the table, then started digging again, before checking into the other pockets of her bag, then pulled out most of contents in her bag to confirm what she feared:

“Aw man, I think I forgot the milk at home!”

Sinclair put her pen and sandwich down. “Nothing to cry about, Val, 'specially 'cause it ain't spilled yet,” she chuckled to herself as she pulled out her wallet. “C'mon, we can just buy ya one here from the caf, right, N'ala?”

Before Neala could reply, there was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the cafeteria.

Heads turned, chatter began anew, greetings and invites to sit down at their tables were thrown about, but all were just waved at, ignored, or politely refused as the newcomer made her way through the length of the cafeteria. She wore a bright, striking orange and dark red top, stylish shoes and a backpack to much, all topped off with a handful of sparkling jewelry, just enough to make her all the more eye-catching, but not too much to be gaudy.

It was a completely new outfit, except for one familiar piece: a pair of designer jeans, ones that fit perfectly on their owner.

Elise waved as she came up to Valerie's table, smoothly sliding into her usual spot beside Sinclair. She noticed the box of Flaming-O's, the plastic spoon, and pile of notebooks, pens, and other supplies by Valerie.

Without a word, Elise zipped open her bag, pulled out a small carton of milk, and slid it over to Valerie.

She smiled, and Valerie smiled back.

* * *

At a glance, the plan had worked out perfectly—levels of illegal activity and general mischief were down and still dropping; the school had vastly more funds and resources to acquire and provide much needed equipment and services; and in general, everyone was happier now that the students had productive, legal venues to put their skills and time in and away from less legal distractions, and maybe even earn a little cash or other perks.

Valerie knew that appearances could be deceiving, however. She needed a definitive test, something that would tell her that Middleburg Elementary now was different from Middleburg Elementary then in all the most important ways. And though figuring the procedure out had been easy, actually putting it into action was proving problematic.

“Y'all still sure about this, Val?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes.” Valerie replied.

“I can hang around, just in case.” Neala offered.

“Neala? Thanks, but **no**. Having you around ruins the point.”

Neala and Sinclair looked at each other uneasily. Valerie kept on looking at the long, long, long expanse of floor before her, a straight line from the bulletin board between the two doors leading out to the back of the school, to the front entrance: the entire length of Middleburg elementary's main hall, the one path every single student from every single grade level used every single day.

“Last chance, Val—I really don't want anythin' bad to happen to ya,” Sinclair said. “As one of my biggest assets _or_ my friend.”

Valerie sighed, and looked at her friends in turn. “Look, guys: I appreciate the concern, and I'm sorry, but I _really_ , need to know. And if anything does happen to me? I've got my mommy's training this time.”

They opened their mouths to protest again.

Valerie scowled, the tips of her hair glowing ominously.

They quickly shut it.

Sinclair headed out one of the back doors. Neala looked back at Valerie, reached out, thought better of it, and dejectedly followed Sinclair.

Valerie looked back at the hall. Above her, the clock kept on ticking, steadily moving closer and closer to the end of the day.

Last bell rang. All around campus, doors flew open as every student from every grade level poured out, heading out the school, to a different classroom, or finding a nice spot to hang out in for the moment. Valerie waited for the hall to get as crowded as it could get, and started walking.

Most ignored her, busy chatting with friends, their after-school plans occupying their minds, or simply too focused on getting to where they needed to go on time. Then a group of former Players came walking towards her.

Valerie tensed up, prepared to bolt and fight if necessary, but they just walked right on past her, in the direction of the school's gym—she caught bits and pieces of conversation about how they badly they were going to kick each other's butts once the MMA club/workshop opened up.

She relaxed and continued her walk. One of the new security guards traversed the length of the hall, sending groups of loitering students shuffling out of the school, much to their protests and grumbling. “Go find something else to do!” They ordered one particularly stubborn group. “It's not like new clubs and whatnot are springing up every week...”

The main hall thinned even more. Save for the guards, the janitors, and students transporting things through the halls or heading to the bathrooms, it was all but empty. Valerie slowed down her walk, resisted the urge to look into the sides and learn if there was anyone watching or preying on her—basically make herself an easy target, unaware, easy to accost, and (looking) harmless and helpless to defend themselves.

Nothing happened. Valerie came closer and closer to the front doors and freedom, the few people around ignoring her or politely acknowledging her, then going straight back to their business. Things were looking good, but the test wasn't done just yet.

One more branch before the front doors—the wings where most of her classrooms were, and the site of so much misery, paranoia, and unpleasantness. It had been a long time since anything seriously _bad_ had happened to her, but Valerie still couldn't help but cringe at the memories.

She noticed a group of ex-Players somehow still hanging around by the lockers—ones she recognized as the ones who'd turned her into a human flamingo so long ago. They recognized her, too, leery grins spreading out on their faces…

… Which quickly disappeared as soon as they noticed the new security cameras that were ready to catch them all on film, and provide ample evidence to the authorities. The thugs grunted and looked as innocent as they could. Valerie decided not to press her luck and quickly shuffled out of the front doors and outside.

She stopped to look into the bushes, see if anyone was laying in wait for her. It was _highly_ unlikely as most ambushers would have sprung into action before the front doors shut behind her, but she knew that that might have been exactly the cue they were waiting for—she should know, she'd plotted a number of successful hits using that same tactic during the Cereal Chillers heyday.

She found leaves, dirt, and the occasional piece of litter—no students, no traces of hastily abandoned water balloons, squirt guns, or other unpleasantness, or that anyone had been in there for a while.

Valerie stepped out onto the sidewalk, turned around, and looked at the school's facade. Almost a year earlier, she first stepped into Middleburg Elementary, nervous, worried, but hopeful, then found out just how cruel kids could be to their fellow kids that same day. In the past months, she'd lived in constant fear and terror for her own safety; went digging for and used blackmail against someone; become a spy; learned how to pick locks, stealthily move around and infiltrate any location in and around the school, and lie with a frequency and brazenness that would make her mommy _very_ unhappy if she found out, to say the least; been terrorized and exploited for profit; become the head of a secret organization of downtrodden, vengeful vigilantes; waged war against a loosely organized group of vandals, bullies, and thugs; staged a dramatic, brutal downfall of her then arch-nemesis; helped pick up the shattered pieces of her life in the aftermath; then enacted a series of plans to reverse, stop, or fix as much as she could of the damage and chaos she'd helped cause or worsen.

And now, it was all over.

Valerie grinned, a happiness like she'd never felt before flooding her whole being, one that made her life feel strangely complete, even for just a few moments.

… Then someone put their hand on her shoulder, she screamed, jumped several inches into the air, and landed in an awkward karate-esque pose.

Elise looked at her strangely as she slowly, carefully took her hand back. “My mother told me that your Uncle Boone wants to tell you something in person; and no, I don't know why he couldn't just tell you through text or e-mail like everyone else in the world. Come on; my mother's waiting to give you a ride to his office in the parking lot. And before you worry about your parents, he's already called.”

Valerie nodded, quickly relaxing her stance. “Gotcha. Hey, speaking of which, why couldn't text me or e-mail me about this, too?”

Elise beamed. “I wanted to congratulate you in person—this plan of yours was crazy, incredibly risky, and unbelievably complex, but you, Riri, were even _more_ insane than it and made it happen.”

Valerie blushed and smiled. “Thanks. I think.”


	47. Chapter 47

“Y'all do remember that I hate surprises, right?” Sinclair said as Neala coaxed her into the backseat of one of her family's cars.

“Yep!” Valerie replied as she climbed in from the other side “Which is why you're probably going to hate it even more when we blindfold you.” She continued as she took her seat in the middle.

Sinclair scowled. “Did I miss a memo somewhere? I wasn't aware it was 'Ruin Sinclair's Day' today.”

“Man, I hope it is!” Tiana cried from the front seat. “That'd be almost as good as a 'Ruin Valerie's Day'.”

Neala sighed quietly as she climbed in and completed their trio, Sinclair pointedly ignored her, while Valerie casually leaned forward and pushed a button on the console in front of them. A wall rose up between the two halves of the car, handily isolating Tiana and muting anything she else she might have said, and the intercom only usable by the driver.

“I know you won't believe either of us, but I think you'll _like_ this surprise, Sinclair.” Neala said, smiling.

Sinclair just rolled her eyes as the car drove on out of Middleburg Elementary's parking lot, and deeper into the city. Her mood only worsened as Valerie and Neala spent the whole trip grinning to themselves, completely silent and betraying absolutely no details of what they were planning. She looked out the window, watching the scenery change and turn into high rise buildings, a few elaborate building fronts, and the one luxurious public park.

The intercom crackled to life. “Misses Flores, Kobayashi, and Harris, we are about five minutes from our destination.” The driver announced smoothly.

Valerie grinned and pulled out a strip of cloth from her pocket. “Blindfold time! Neala going to have to hold you down, Sinclair?” She half-joked.

Sinclair groaned. “Well, since y'all have basically kidnapped me with my family's own car, then drove me off to who knows where in the city, sure, _why not_!” She said as she turned her head around and stayed still.

Valerie tied a very good blindfold, as Sinclair quickly found out; she couldn't see anything, she wasn't going to be able to peek through the sides or remove it that easily, and couldn't complain that it was too and get it off because it was just snug enough over her eyes.

Without her sight, she had to rely on all her other senses to figure out what was going on. She felt the sense of slowing down as the car finally slowed to a stop. Heard the sound of the driver's announcement that they were there, the door popping open, and Middleburg's busier districts. Felt Neala's and Valerie's hands on her own as they guided her out the car, the concrete sidewalk underneath their feet as they walked, the floor turning into something smooth but still hard, like marble. Smelled high quality air fresheners; lots of different types of colognes, perfumes, and deodorants; and finally, strawberries and warm, freshly baked pastries.

There was excitement in the air, eager tittering and shushing as the crowds tried desperately and failed to keep quiet—whatever was happening, it was _big_. And here Sinclair was, still blindfolded and not told a single thing, and now Neala and Valerie were letting go of her and walking away, leaving her standing who knows where at the mercy of whatever was supposed to happen.

She scowled as deep as her lips could go. “Will somebody _please_ tell me what in the _Sam Hill_ is going on already?!”

The blindfold came off, the knot holding it together coming apart seamlessly. Sinclair reflexively shut her eyes against the light, opening them again to see everything blurred but quickly coming back into focus.

At first, she thought they'd shoved a monitor in front of her face. Then, she realized that the resolution was far too good, and the background wasn't familiar. Her parents smiled, before they both wrapped their arms around her and hugged her tightly.

“We're home, Rosa.” They said.

Most people would have started crying or screaming. Sinclair just blinked in disbelief. “… But… _how…?”_ She muttered.

Her parents pulled away and gestured for her to turn around. Sinclair did and saw Valerie standing next to Boone; beside them, Elise standing next to a woman who looked like a much older, fairer skinned version of her, with the same intensely coloured, striking eyes except in a cobalt blue than emerald green; and all four of them wearing knowing, proud smiles.

“You've got great friends, _anak.”_ RJ said.

Sinclair started tearing up.

“You can thank us later.” Valerie said casually, before gesturing for her to turn right back around.

Everything after that became sort of a blur of crying, hugging, and partying; it all felt like a dream, a wonderful, beautiful lucid dream with the benefit of each and everything that happened being completely, absolutely _real._

Things only really slowed down once Sinclair got back in her room, her parents with her and gawking at all the things that had changed since they've been gone. Her father summed it up best: “Wow, how did a crib, a changing table, and a bag in the corner turn into this?!”

They spent a while with Sinclair giving her a tour of everything that had changed since that time, like her computer, her bed with all its pillows, and the boxes full of items and old paperwork that she hadn't thrown out—though the occasional hidden stores of products, the hidden programs to connect to her secure communication lines, and the few journals and documentation about her old business network went unmentioned.

They stopped in front of Sinclair's wall of photos, her pointing at each one, explaining the stories behind picture, the events then, and all the things she hadn't been fortunate enough to catch on camera. Her parents smiled and chuckled, turned wistful and sad, shook their heads and smiled knowingly, until Sinclair explained every last photo but the one in the very center of it all.

“And this one is--” Sinclair's smile disappeared, her finger wilting, and her hand quickly pulling away from the photograph. “It's...” She trailed off.

“… It's the day before mama left ahead of us and took ya with her...” Rosemary finished.

The three of them were silent for a while. “Quite the picture to put front and center, anak.” RJ said, breaking it.

Sinclair smiled at him sadly. “Well, yeah—it's the only picture I had with the just the three of us—no granny, or someone else turnin' us into a quartet or bigger.”

“Not anymore, it ain't!” Sugar cried as she stepped into Sinclair's bedroom. “Forgive me for eavesdroppin', but I didn't want to ruin your little moment—and lookin' for a good opportunity to give ya this!” She smiled as she held up two photographs.

The three of them smiled back as soon as they saw what they were about.

The two new photos joined the little island in the center, rearranged and forming a triangle:

Up on the left, Sinclair, Rosemary, and RJ so many years ago on that ill-fated vacation.

Beside it on the right, Sinclair, Rosemary, and RJ posing for the second photo Sinclair had with just the three of them.

And right below them, Sinclair, Valerie, Neala, Elise, and all their family and friends trying to squeeze into the frame, smiles on their faces—and in Boone's case, strawberry jelly, too.

“It's beautiful.” Rosemary said.

Sinclair stepped back and admired it, a wide smile on her face. Her parents put their hands on her shoulders and smiling along with her.

The room was silent for a few blissful moments.

“Okay, enough sentimentality and bonding for tonight!” Sugar cried. “Sinclair, _you_ need to go to bed, y'all still got school tomorrow, and _you two_ need to set a good example for your daughter and get enough shut-eye for your first day at your new jobs!”

Sinclair spun around to her parents. “Say what now?”

Rosemary smiled guiltily. “As happy as I am to be back home, Rosa, you know I can't just stay here all day waiting, wiling away my time while I wait for you to come back from school.”

“Besides, I think you'll be pretty happy when you hear that we're working at a new place called Middleburg Elementary.” RJ said casually. “Technically, it's a volunteer gig for now, helping them with all the funds and partnerships they've got, but I think we can give them some _pre-tty_ good reasons to keep us on full-time.” He smiled, and Sinclair smiled back.

Rosemary leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. “Goodnight, Rosa.”

RJ bent down and hugged her, before ruffling her hair. “We'll be here tomorrow morning when you wake up—and that's a promise.”

Sinclair started tearing up again. “Night _'nay, n_ ight _tay'._ I love you two.”

“And we all love you back, Rosa.” Sugar finished. “Now all of you get to sleep.”

* * *

Sinclair and her parents spent the better part of a year being almost inseparable, driving to school together, spending a number of weekends making up for lost time with as many family outings as they could, and staying up late into the night catching up, sharing stories, and learning about all the things they'd missed or just couldn't get through a computer screen and a videocam.

She had a strong inkling that her parents knew she was part of the Cereal Chillers—her way of business was just a refined, adapted form of the same one her mother and her grandmother had used—but nothing really came out of it, the work of keeping a school funded, equipped, and supplied with an official budget that was not nearly enough keeping them too busy to even begin to think of prosecuting their own daughter and her friends, with little in the way of solid evidence, to boot, and a trip to the mall a much more appealing use of their time.

Eventually, they figured they'd finally made up for their absence without inventing time travel or manipulating the fabric of reality, and started staying home more on the weekends doing their own things, and once Sinclair hit puberty, drifting even further apart was all but assured.

RJ and Rosemary stayed on full-time with Middleburg Elementary—providing a safe, properly equipped, and opportunity filled space for young, impressionable children seemed a higher priority than older, but still impressionable teenagers. There was however some overlap between it and Middleburg High, enough to provide insider information that could prove useful…

… And sometimes, disturbing.

“ _There was one former staff member who took it upon themselves to try and_ _learn more about_ _Fish Stick on a_ _Stick more than a decade back_ _.”_ Rosemary's e-mail read. _“Principal Larry and Mr. Rippen reportedly_ _told her it was just a restaurant,_ _but she was really stubborn about_ _seeing it for her own two eyes_ _._

“ _No one really knows for sure what happened there, but when she came back, it was pretty clear she didn't want to talk about it, and that was end of that conversation since. About the only real connection between them and these schools is that some of their loyal customers just happen to work here._

“ _If there's anything concrete to find out about this place, it's not here._

“ _Sorry Rosa. We know how frustrating this must be for you. Good luck with your search.”_

Sinclair sighed, and deleted the e-mail. “So much for that...” She mumbled to herself as she opened her lunch box and pulled out her sandwich. She was about to take a much needed bite out of her food when she saw Elise walking up to the almost empty table.

It was just the two of them that day, Valerie sleeping off a caffeine crash in the clinic and Neala waiting to shock her back to life with yet more caffeine to get her through the afternoon.

Sinclair put down her sandwich. “Anythin' to report?”

Elise sighed. “To quote my mother, 'Those that do know, don't want you to know; those that don't know, don't want to know.' About the only thing she's sure about is that whatever this 'Fish Stick on a Stick' actually is, it is _definitely_ not a niche restaurant with a particularly generous customer base, or it just has an incredibly rich CEO who likes to keep their failing restaurant chain running just for fun. You?”

Sinclair's sighed, too. “Turns out Principal Larry and Mr. Rippen just happen to be those really generous customers—ain't anythin' we can find here that's solid, and not just coincidence.”

“ _Wonderful...”_ Elise mumbled. “Would you be able to excuse me out the rest of my classes this day, and sneak me out of campus?” She asked quietly.

“Head to the junior wing's girl's bathroom, west hall with the entrance behind you; I can get ya out of here before the end o' lunch. What exactly are you plannin' to do, if y'all don't mind me askin?”

“I'm heading into that Fish Stick on a Stick and getting myself a job, find out what's going on from the inside...” Elise muttered darkly.

Sinclair blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yes. Much as it may surprise you, you and Neala aren't her only friends. I'll call back as soon as I'm able. Pleasure doing business with you, Sinclair.” Elise waved her off, before walking back through the cafeteria and down the halls.

Sinclair didn't bother saying goodbye, instead busying herself with her phone to arrange Elise's request, and call their last resort for information.

It bothered her that she was forcing them  all back into the life they'd promised  they'd  leave behind,  and in less than a year since the declaration, too, but as they say, desperate times call for desperate measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Arc.
> 
> The next arc, "Short Change Hero" will start after a short hiatus as the author focuses on other projects.


	48. Short Change Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neala and Tiana arc begins...

Middleburg Elementary's gym doors slammed open, thrown so hard they rebounded off the walls. All heads turned to see what the commotion was about, before a good number of them exploded in excited chatter if they weren't rushing to the MMA mat or strapping on their safety gear.

Sashi strode into the gym looking like a drill sergeant about to break in a group of recruits still fresh from the office. “Alright everyone, listen up! Your gym's got new equipment, your boxing ring's been fixed, and your practice mat doesn't look like someone took a lawnmower to it and tried to fix the whole thing with duct-tape! The official sign-ups and schedule don't start till it's actually summer, but you know what? I don't care, and I don't think any of you will mind if I start your new MMA Workshop early!”

A resounding cheer went up with the students that were joining.

Sashi grinned. “That's what I like to hear! Now are you all going to keep brawling in halls and getting detention for it, or are you all going to learn how to _really_ fight, and _then_ get to beat the living daylights out of each other _without_ getting in trouble?

“Don't answer: I want you all to line up on the mat, five a row!”

From the sidelines of the newly fixed boxing ring, Neala and Tiana watched as Sashi took control of some of the rowdiest and most problematic kids in the entire school, a mix of former Players, the ex-fighters from the now defunct underground fighting ring, Cereal Chillers past and present, and regular old students who either needed someplace to channel all that aggression and energy, or learn to defend themselves. Somehow, in spite of their different temperaments, backgrounds, and tendency for hostility, she had them all lined and standing up at attention, following every order, and moving in as perfect sync as you could get a bunch of kids below or near the age of ten.

“Geeze Louise, you'd think she was trying to raise an army of kid soldiers or something.” Tiana said. She paused. “She's not doing that, is she…?”

“As far as I know? No.” Neala replied calmly.

Tiana nodded. “Good. I'd hate to have to form a ragtag rebel force of other kids...”

“You'd only probably have to recruit my friends, though.”

Tiana scowled at her. “Are you _serious_? You think that little twerp would want to go up against her own mom, instead of being her deadliest right hand kid?”

Before Neala could reply, the gym doors banged open again, but with much less noise and a tinier gap this time. The Harris sisters watched as a familiar lanky, small hand grab the edge of the door, then rush into the gym before the doors closed on her. Valerie huffed, sweated, and panted as she ran to the mat in her flip flops, her backpack sloppily hung over one shoulder, and an excited smile on her face.

“Speak of the devil...” Tiana mumbled, warily looking at her as she came up to Sashi.

Though they couldn't hear them for the distance, it wasn't very difficult to imagine what they were saying, with the way Sashi glared at Valerie before pointing back out the gym doors, and the smile on Valerie's face quickly disappearing. She turned around and walked away from the MMA class, shoulders drooped, her bag dragging on the floor behind her, and a disappointed frown on her lips this time.

As she trudged off to Neala, the stern look on Sashi's face faltered for a moment, before she steeled herself, and turned back to her class, back to drill sergeant mode.

Tiana chuckled. “Hallelujah, the world is saved.”

Neala shot her a mild glare, before she walked up to Valerie and picked up her bag for her.

“Before you ask, my mommy said, 'No, you are not joining this class, and never will for as long as I live and beyond that, if I have anything to say about it.'” Valerie said dejectedly.

Neala patted her on the back. “Maybe you can get her to change her mind?”

Valerie laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right.” She brightened up considerably. “It doesn't matter, though, because I've got a back-up plan!”

Neala frowned, something distinctly worrying with the tone of Valerie's voice. “You're not going home?”

Valerie grinned. “I came her to fight and eat Flaming-O's, and I'm all out of Flamingo's”

Neala frowned even more. Tiana was also frowning, but for a different reason. “Hey, pipsqueak,” she barked, “if you need a friend to gripe and complain to, go find someone else; me and N'ala here have a sparring match due.” She said.

Valerie was unfazed. “Heh, funny you should mention that, because Tiana…” She dramatically pointed her finger at Neala. “I need your sister to beat me up!”

Neala blinked, Valerie's bag slowly dropping from her hand. “I'm sorry, _what?”_

“My mommy _says_ she's taught me everything I can from her, but I know that's just because she refuses to go all-out on me; I need a _real_ sparring partner, someone who'll actually be a challenge and an accurate measure of my skills.” Valerie explained.

Tiana paused, then laughed. “Oh man, forget what I said, _this_ I gotta see.”

Neala stared at them both, before quickly shaking her head. “No.”

Valerie frowned. “What? I brought safety gear, if that's what you're worried about!”

“Still not doing it.” Neala replied.

Valerie frowned. “I'm chronically ill, not made of porcelain, alright? I can take it!”

“I'd rather not risk breaking you in the first place! Val, I know my strength, and I know that one good punch for me is probably going to be lights out for you.”

Valerie smirked. “Well, I don't believe that, so why don't we fight and find out for real?”

“Yeah, N'ala, why don't you?” Tiana chimed in.

Neala shot the both of them disbelieving looks in turn. “Are you two _serious?”_

“Does it look like I'm joking?” Valerie snapped.

“She's not, if you ask me.” Tiana added.

Neala stared at them for a few moments, then cast her head back at the training mat. Sashi had already taken down five students who tried to gang up on her, and was now lecturing all of them about how much of a bad idea it was to get cocky and take someone up on their offer to fight, especially if it seemed you had them outnumbered, outmatched, and had a great advantage over them beside.

Her former opponents stayed on the floor, by choice or no.

“I swear, I will make sure that my mommy's not going to kill you if something goes wrong,” Valerie said.

“And you've got me to save your butt in case she finally unleashes her psychotic grade school ninja skills on you,” Tiana continued.

Neala paused, took a deep breath, and sighed heavily. “Neither of you are letting this go, are you?”

“Nope.” “Nuh uh.”

Neala closed her eyes. “One match, alright? If I win, we're never sparring ever again.”

“And if I win, we keep on doing it. Deal?” Valerie offered her hand.

Neala reluctantly shook it. “Deal,” she muttered.

Tiana chuckled. “Alright! Knockout only, no surrendering, and _no_ crazy ninja moves or secret marital arts techniques from you, pipsqueak! Boxing only.”

“Works for me,” Valerie said as she started stretching her arms. “N'ala?”

“Sure, whatever'll get this over with.”

Valerie and Neala suited up with gloves and protective headgear, while Tiana shed hers to referee. A small crowd gathered to watch, while someone manned the bell. Sashi noticed the impending match-up, but too busy handling her class, she couldn't come over and do anything about it.

“Last chance, Val,” Neala said as the two of them met in the middle, Tiana between them. “You can still back out.”

“Yeah, not taking it,” Valerie replied as she raised her fists.

“Enough talk!” Tiana cried. “You both know the rules, ready to get this fight started?”

“ _Very_ ready,” Valerie replied.

“Suppose so...” Neala continued.

Tiana grinned. “Alright! Fight!”

_Ding-ding-ding!_

The crowd went wild as Tiana stepped back, formally starting the match. Valerie made the first move, rushing towards Neala, determination on her face. Neala threw a jab at her, one that she know would end the fight immediately…

… If Valerie didn't dodge at the last second and skirted right around her. Surprised, she didn't react enough when Valerie put a swift series of punches to her side, incredibly painful and focused strikes for such tiny hands on flimsy arms. She backed away just as quickly, leaving Neala staring then nursing her side.

“Get serious, N'ala: are you my sparring partner, or are you my punching bag?” Valerie asked playfully.

“Don't just let her get away with that!” Tiana yelled.

Neala would have happily done so, if she could—she was pretty sure that no one but Sashi would let the fight end on that. She recovered, made a mental note to get serious, and raised her fists again.

Valerie took the offensive once more, closing the distance between them, but this time, Neala was ready.

She didn't throw a punch this time, leaving Valerie to try and get her with a hook. Almost as fast as she was, she dodged and countered with an uppercut, her fist landing smack dab into Valerie's chest. She staggered back from the blow, arms protectively crossed over her body.

Neala flinched. “Val, you oka--”

She didn't finish the sentence as Valerie recovered almost instantly and charged again, her hair tips glowing. If she was fast earlier, she was a blur now, her fists flying out almost too fast to see, and definitely too fast for Neala to defend herself properly. Pain erupted all over her body from sharp jabs and vicious hooks, before it all ended with a swift uppercut.

Neala felt her jaw stop Valerie's fist in a way that could only be _painful_ , but a throbbing hand was nothing compared to the blitz she'd just been subjected too.

_Thud!_

Neala fell onto her back, arms crossed over her stomach, afraid to roll onto her side and curl up into a ball for fear of agitating her other injuries. Tiana stared blankly, still processing what the heck just happened. Valerie pulled back, breathing hard, sweat pouring down her skin, the glow of her hair tips slowly fading away, her blue eyes going from narrowed so tightly they were almost slits back to their usual size.

_Ding-ding-ding!_

“Winner! Valerie Kobayashi!” The kid manning the bell cried.

The crowd started roaring and cheering soon after.

Tiana scowled. “Shut up!” She yelled. “I haven't done the ten second count yet!” She said as she crossed the canvas and knelt down beside her sister. “Come on, N'ala, _get up!”_ She whispered in between her counting.

Unfortunately for her, it was pretty clear to everyone that Neala was done for, even before Tiana counted up to nine-and-three-quarters. “Ten!” She spat, before she slammed her hand on the canvas as hard as she could.

Valerie stepped over to help. Tiana glared at her so hard, she took a huge step back as if struck by some tangible but invisible force. She turned back to Neala, concern on her face. “You okay, N'ala?”

“My internal organs seem to be just bruised, not ruptured and bleeding, yeah,” Neala groaned.

Tiana scowled. “Don't joke around Tia, this is serious.” She said as she carefully picked her back up.

“I'll be fine, so long as you don't want me to go for round two...” Neala said as she stood up with her help.

“I won't—besides, I plan on beating the living daylights out of this freak of nature myself...” Tiana growled.

“Tia--” Neala said, but her sister was already marching up to Valerie.

“Hey, Valerie!” Tiana snapped as she thrust her into Valerie's chest. “Round two: you and me, right now!”

Valerie stepped back again and held up her hands. “Believe me, I'd love to if I could, Tia, but that fight just burned a lot more spoons than I thought it would...”

“Bully!” Tiana spat. “You're just saying that to get out of this!”

Neala put a hand on her shoulder. “Tia, don't...” She pleaded quietly.

Tiana flared up in anger, her shoulders growing tense, looking like she was ready to pound Valerie into a pulp with her bare fists. Then, she swiftly turned away, wrenched Neala's hand off her shoulder, and stormed off to the side and out of the ring, the crowd parting to let her through unimpeded.

Valerie watched her go, before stepping up to Neala. “You okay, N'ala? I don't know where that came from, but I'm pretty sure that _had_ to hurt.”

“My internal organs will recover, and forgive me if I don't exactly believe you...” Neala replied bitterly.

Valerie frowned. “Seriously, N'ala, that's never happened to me before.”

“And you can figure out exactly what happened _later_ ,” Sashi said as she stood by the side of the ring, her hands gripping the rope tightly. “Sorry, Neala, but I need to speak with Valerie _right now.”_

Neala nodded. “It's fine, Mrs. Kobayashi.” She said as she stepped away. “Later, Val.”

Valerie gave a weak wave goodbye before she stepped out of the ring as quickly as she could. She and Sashi left for one of the far corners, someplace quiet and isolated where no one would hear them talk and it'd be hard to make out whatever it was that was that they were saying.

Neala had this strong feeling it'd be for the best if she didn't try to find out. And from the way Tiana was glaring at her from the other direction, she had her own private conversation to go to.

“The heck happened back there?” Tiana asked as Neala stepped up.

“Valerie knocked me out, and I lost.” Neala replied calmly.

Tiana scowled. “I'm sorry, I think you mean the alien killer robot ninja knocked you out.” The anger disappeared instantly. “What _happened_ back there, N'ala? You don't lose, _ever_.”

“It's easy to say that when I don't fight very much...” Neala replied weakly.

Tiana bit her tongue and steamed for a moment. “You're not going to honour that, deal and go up against her again, are you?”

“'You can take everything away from a Harris but their honour.'” Neala quoted.

Tiana threw her arms in the air. “I don't care what our great-great-great-grandpappy said, find a way to get out of it!”

Neala frowned, more confused than anything else. “What's with all the concern all of a sudden, sis? I thought you said you wouldn't even go _near_ anything that had Valerie involved.”

“That was before I knew she could probably kill you, too!”

“Tia, you're over-exaggerating.”

“Am I…?” Tiana growled.

Neala didn't reply.

“Let me make myself clear, Neala: that freak can hypnotize you, or whatever it is she's doing that's got you doing her bidding like the Mistress of Mystery, but she can _not_ hurt you as long as I'm around.” Tiana's softened. “Just… be extra careful around her, alright?”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good.” Tiana said. “Heads up, I think the pipsqueak wants to talk to you.” She said, pointing behind Neala.

She turned around to look, but Valerie was still with Sashi in their corner. She turned back around, but Tiana had already slipped away and left. She shrugged and returned on the benches on the side of the ring, watching the new pair of fighters duking it out on the canvas as she waited for Valerie.

“Welp, I'm banned from sparring with you or anyone else for the rest of my life...” Valerie said as she plunked herself down beside Neala.

“That sucks.”

Valerie smiled. “You didn't let me finish—until we get back from the doctor's, figure out how many spoons I'll need for a match, and if it's safe for me to be training like this.”

Neala smiled. “Here's to hoping you get the all clear, then.”

Valerie chuckled. “You really that eager to get beaten up again?”

“No, but I know how much this means to you. Besides, who says you'll win the second round...?” Neala countered.

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “Is that a bet, N'ala?”

“Just stating the facts Val; you don't always get so lucky the second time around.” She paused. “Just take it a little easier next time than you did just now, alright? I like my face arranged the way it is right now.”

“No worries, I won't—besides, I don't think I'd like looking at them as much as this one.” Valerie joked.

Neala blushed. They spent the rest of their time watching the fight till it ended, then toweling off, rehydrating, and making idle chatter before Sashi ended her class came over to fetch Valerie. The goodbyes were quick and short, before the Kobayashis hussled out of the gym.

Their exit was far quieter and more subtle than their entrances, but Neala remembered them better than both.


	49. Chapter 49

_About one year from present day..._

_Ding-ding-ding!_

The crowd surrounding Middleburg High's boxing ring went wild. On the sidelines, a camera operator did their best to get a good feed of the fight, while Sinclair and a few employees went around hawking snacks and refreshments, and discretely taking in bets while they were at it. Some distance away, Sashi supervised her MMA class while occasionally casting glances at a tablet propped up nearby.

The sparring matches had long gone without a referee; the only person that was willing to even set foot in the ring or even get close to the ropes while Valerie and Neala were duking it out was Tiana, and she had long found a different after-school activity to occupy her time.

No one minded, however as the last thing the crowd wanted was someone to break the action.

Valerie and Neala circled each other, gloved hands raised, determined looks on both their faces. The crowd screamed for blood, yelling and cheering, taunting one or the other, but neither paid them any heed—all their attention was on each other, watching, waiting for an entrance, a good opportunity to strike.

They'd long since run out of surprises and new techniques, and both knew the others style by heart; now, it all boiled down to who would make the wrong move, and who would recognize it in time to abuse it.

The noise grew as the crowd grew restless. Some of Sinclair's staff had to shush them, remind them they were still on school property, not a sports venue, but most of them didn't listen. Fortunately for all of them, Valerie closed the distance between them.

All chatter ceased as the two clashed. Fists flew out, heads ducked and dodged, bare feet stomped and flew all over the canvas as they fought, one unrelenting attack and counterattack after the other, little time to think, no room for mercy.

Valerie broke off, staggering back just in time to miss a jab aimed at her head. The crowd went crazy, cheering and roaring, excitedly debating amongst themselves who was going to win this match as the two of them started circling each other once more, trying to look for another opening.

Tension filled the air. Valerie charged again, the tips of her hair glowing a faint purple this time. Neala frowned—whatever the reason for that weird effect, she'd long learned it always meant bad news for her.

Valerie lunged to the side. Neala threw a hook at her. She ducked just in time for her fist to glance her hair, and didn't hesitate to rush forward into Neala's unprotected side, pounding away as many times as she could before she had to pull away from her counterattack.

That may have been the key to Valerie's victory, or it may not have been; without high-speed playback, it was difficult to know exactly what had been done by who, if it had actually led to victory or defeat, but of the one thing everyone was certain of: any match between them was bound to be a damn good fight.

It was David and Goliath without the benefit of a slingshot or an army behind them, two fighters that couldn't be any more different yet were just as dangerous as the other, where every match was at least three vicious, action-packed rounds where no one could be entirely sure about who was going to win, and the crowd just couldn't get enough of it.

Neala threw an uppercut at Valerie. Her massive fist ended up socking her straight in her thin, noodly chest. The glow of her hair tips faded as she staggered back with her arms crossed protectively, before she fell back onto the canvas. The spectators were on the edge of their seats as the ten second count began.

At first glance, it was all over for Valerie, but they knew she was perfectly capable of bouncing back up and turning the tables…

… Today was not that day, however, as she stayed on the floor for the whole ten seconds.

_Ding-ding-ding!_

“Winner: Neala Harris!” The referee cried.

The crowd went nuts, while Sinclair and her lackeys went about subtly handing out winnings and giving the losers complementary snacks to ease their disappointment (and help keep them coming back to bet another day). The spectators got up and left, happily chatting about the fight, and who was going to win next week. Neala took off her gloves, slung Valerie's arm across her shoulder, and pulled her back up to her feet.

“Up for another round, N'ala?” Valerie asked with a small smile, still a little breathless from the knockout blow but otherwise fine.

“No.” Neala replied.

“Aww, c'mon!” Valerie whined as they walked off to the edge. “I've got a surplus of spoons for the next couple of weeks now that it's summer!”

“It's not the spoons I'm worried about, Val,” Neala replied as she ducked under the ropes and down to the benches.

Valerie scowled. “You know I'm tougher than I look!” She said as she followed after her.

“I do, but _you_ don't seem to know how much your 'sparring' punches hurt...” Neala snapped back as she started taking off her equipment.

Valerie smiled as she did the same. “Heh. I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Pardon me for interruptin', but are you two finally done beatin' the livin' daylights out of each other?” Sinclair asked as she walked over. “'Cause I need the both of y'all for a _huge_ endeavour of mine.”

“Sure Sinclair, what's up?” Valerie replied.

Sinclair sucked in a breath. “I need you two to accompany me on a little trip to get a delivery of a new product. Not that much of a walk, I assure you, just five or so blocks away from the gym Neala's pa works and back. Everythin's already been paid for and arranged beforehand, and you both know your compensation will be _very_ generous.”

“Uh huh,” Valerie replied as she wiped herself off with a towel, “and _why_ exactly do you need _us_ to help you?”

Sinclair cast a wary look at Sashi. When she was sure she was busy and distracted by her class, she turned back to Valerie and, quietly said, “Well, the path winds through some dangerous territory—not deep into it, just on the very outskirts, really, but enough to make me concerned for the safety of my investment and more importantly, my employees—goods and cash are easy to replace, but good help not so much, and all.”

Neala frowned. “And where exactly is this 'dangerous territory'?” She asked.

Sinclair forced a smile. “Place called Allen Boulevard—I'm pretty sure you've all heard of it.”

It took all Neala and Valerie had not to yell out the name. “You're taking us right into Hangman's Alley?!” Neala sputtered.

“Not _in_ to it, just skirtin' around, is all!” Sinclair replied quickly. “Look, I've got it on good authority from the people that have the great misfortune of livin' there that the path we're takin' is the safest possible; the worst is much deeper in, and even the just bad stays away till late in the evenin'.”

Valerie and Neala both gave Sinclair a look.

“… Alright, it's _relatively_ speakin 'the safest possible.'” She admitted.

“Why the sudden interest in risky business, Sinclair?” Neala asked.

“Inflation, opportunities available to me, and changin' times, friends; our old businesses are shutting down or taken over, we've steadily lost our employees over the years to all manner of reasons, and to be perfectly honest, I'm still a teenaged girl with a high standard of livin' and a family who ain't payin' for certain luxuries o' mine.

“Look, if it makes y'all feel better, I'm just testin' out the waters here; you can be sure that as soon as I see some fins circlin' about, I'm paddlin' as fast as I can back to shore and rentin' my boat out from then on out. Havin' you two around is just extra insurance—a means to scare 'em off, lessen the chances of me throwin' my investment out to sea, and worst comes to worst, minimize the damage to property and people.” Sinclair quickly knocked on the wooden benches.

“I'm not going to do this just because you need money, Sinclair.” Valerie replied.

Neala gave her a look that said much the same.

Sinclair nodded. “I understand, and I respect your decision, you two...” She quickly pulled out her phone, and opened to an image of a _very_ attractive girl about a year or two older than them. “...But let me just introduce you to my business partner in this endeavour!”

Valerie's eyebrows shot up with great interest. Neala noticed, and frowned.

“This is Mina! She done gone, went, and invented a great recipe for a new drink that's turnin' out to be pretty popular, easy to make, and now she's plannin' to expand onto bigger markets. She's already got the equipment to start producin' the product at those volumes, but she needs some help with the delivery side, and gettin' new markets for it.

“Seein' as few people are willin' to help without cash up front or the promise o' a cut o' the profits later, her options are pretty slim. And trust me, like any entrepreneur, she could _really_ use the help; aside from coverin' her own production costs, she's also plannin' to use that money to help make her neighbourhood better, employin' people, and puttin' money back into it, even just a little bit!

“It ain't business to her so much as it is a means to achieve her dream to make her street a place people'll will _want_ to live in—and I promise you she'll be _very_ grateful to every single person that helps her with it...”

Sinclair leaned in. “Very, very, _very_ grateful.”

Neala looked at Valerie and silently pleaded with her, but by then, it was already far too late.

“… It's just five blocks, right?” Valerie asked.

“And back, if'n all things go well!” Sinclair replied. “Y'all won't even have to pull anythin', just look fierce! Plus, with the net from this first delivery, she'll have enough to set up a more permanent and safer means of deliveries, so it'll be just the one time I'll need y'all.”

Valerie held out her hand. “Alright, Sinclair, I'll do it.”

Sinclair shoved her phone into her pocket and took it happily. “Fantastic! I'm assumin' y'all are in, too, N'ala?”

Neala glared at her for a moment before reluctantly offering her hand.

Sinclair shook it as if nothing had happened. “I'll text you all the fine details later, but save all of Saturday mornin' next week just to be sure!” She said before she swiftly turned around and left.

“Are you sure about this plan, Val?” Neala asked as soon as Sinclair was out of earshot.

“Hey, Sinclair did say it was the safest route possible!” Valerie replied.

Neala sighed quietly, and made a note to mark Saturday on her calendar later.

* * *

_Bang-bang!_

The door to Neala's room was thrown open, quietly thumping against the old mattress that had been propped up against the wall nearby. “My Twin Trouble Sense tingled earlier— _big time._ ” Tiana said as she stood in the doorway. “Is the pipsqueak roping you into something dangerous and illegal again?”

Neala calmly marked the page she was on, then set her book to the side. “Maybe; you know what you've got to do first, sis.” She replied as she sat back on her bed.

Tiana shoulder's tightened, her face turned red with anger, and her lip curled into a scowl, before she sighed heavily and dropped her stance, the blood draining from her face. “What is _with_ you and her, N'ala? _Every single thing_ she's done, you're right behind her, whatever it is!”

“We're friends, Tia, and friends help each other out.”

“Yeah, and friends don't rope their friends into stupid crap that'll get them in serious trouble or _worse._ ”

Neala frowned. “At least I'm always sure she's completely honest and transparent about what it is she's planning—unlike whatever it is _you're_ doing with your free time.”

“Don't change the subject,” Tiana growled. “I know you're smart, N'ala—crazy smart. Why can't you see that she's just bad news? She's a radioactive criminal mastermind ninja spy, for crying out loud!”

Neala sighed, got off her bed, and marched right up to Tiana. “Look, I'll admit that her methods can be questionable at best and illegal at worst, but Valerie's heart is in the right place; she never uses her abilities purely for evil, she's quick to make up for whatever horrible mistakes she _does_ make, and when she sees an injustice, she doesn't stop until she makes things right.

“Even if she's _far_ from perfect, that doesn't change the fact that she's changed a lot of lives for the better—ours included!”

Tiana balked. “Oh, _barf!_ You sound like one of those lovestruck vampire fangirls!”

Neala panicked for only a brief moment, but Tiana caught it, as she always did.

She stared at Neala, before she shut her eyes, and slowly put her palm to her face. “Oh, no...”

Neala tried to step away and shut the door on Tiana, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

Tiana started shaking her head. “No, no, **no!** Damn it, N'ala, tell me you do _not_ have a crush on her!”

“I don't have a crush on Valerie...” Neala replied lamely.

Tiana groaned. “Right. Because you're in _love_ with her, that's why. You just want to take her in your arms, hold her close, and be the one that's gonna tell her everything's alright, be the big lovable brick house that's gonna protect her from all the meanies that want to hurt her, don't you?” She gave Neala a withering look. “I expected better from you, sis!”

“So what if I do, huh?!” Neala countered. “What's wrong with her?”

Tiana counted off her points with her fingers. “Uh, she's crazy, she's vindictive, she's incredibly smart and even more devious than that, she's got a flair for manipulation, propaganda, spying, organized crime, covert warfare, hand-to-hand combat, and _oh yeah_ , she turned my own _friggin'_ twin sister against me!”

Silence.

“… That last one's not true...” Neala mumbled.

“It is, but you just can't see it while you've got those hearts in your eyes, can you?” Tiana spat. She sucked in a breath, and sighed heavily. “N'ala, just take this one piece of advice from me, alright? Let her go. This isn't some terrible romance novel from an author who _really_ needs to get out more; bad girls don't just fall in love with good girls and change for the better.”

Her expression softened. “I'm worried about you, alright? She's gonna break your heart into a million tiny pieces one of these days, and I don't want to be there helping you try to put it all back together.”

Neala stared at her for a few moments, before she turned around and walked back to her bed.

“Fine, be that way.” Tiana said. “But don't blame me when it finally happens, alright?” She grabbed the door and pulled it shut behind her.

“Hey Tia?” Neala said, her back turned to Tiana.

Tiana pushed it back open. “What?”

“Can we go back to how we used to be, when all we talked about was cartoons, dresses, and tea parties with your plushies?”

Tiana sighed. “You know what you've got to do first, sis.” She said before she shut the door.

Neala picked her book back up and went to reading, losing herself in someone else's problems for a while.


	50. Chapter 50

There was a line that separated Hangman's Alley from the rest of Middleburg, the bright, sunny summer day on one side, and the unnerving, almost unnatural gloom that settled over the street on the other. They both knew this was because of the high rises some distance away casting a gigantic shadow over the place, but it was still creepy and had them both on alert.

“Wow, I can see why Sinclair thought she might need security detail...” Valerie said.

Neala frowned. “Let's not stop to admire the scenery, okay, Val?”

“Wasn't planning to,” Valerie replied as they crossed the line and into the Alley.

The sights that greeted them as they walked through its streets didn't help. Abandoned tenements, houses, and store buildings flanked the streets, windows and doors boarded up, aged “CLOSED” signs tacked over what used to be their front doors, with some of the planks already rotting from age or broken down by weather or some desperate souls. Trees lined the sidewalks, but they were long dead, and their ground was now home to mud, cigarette ash, and all manner of trash. Other people walking around at this time of day were few and far in between, and even then, they weren't too keen on making eye contact or even getting near Valerie and Neala.

Sinclair had specified that they were getting a delivery of beverages but now, the two of them had to wonder.

“You think she may have left out some important details?” Neala asked as they neared the end of their trip. “Like what exactly is _in_ this product?”

“For her sake, she better not have...” Valerie grumbled. “Tell you what, something seems the slightest bit fishy with this deal, we turn back and tell Sinclair to go find a different duo to help her out.”

“Deal.”

The two of them rounded the last corner before their destination, expecting the worst.

What they found was not that, to say the least.

Sinclair had given them exact directions, along with a note that said, “You'll know the place when you see it.” and the renovated garage they saw was a giant, incredibly obvious sanctuary in Hangman's Alley. All the glass panes were whole and unbroken; the brick exterior had been decorated and painted with all manner of colourful designs like flowers, smiley faces, and happy animals; and even the oppressive gloom that covered the rest of the neighbourhood seemed to give most of its street a break, no high rises near its skyline that blocked the sun from beaming down on it at this time of day. The crowner was the massive garden high up on the roof, its leaves bright green with vibrantly coloured fruits of oranges, pinks, and reds dotting it.

Valerie and Neala stopped at the end of the street, stunned.

There was a flash of light at one of the upper windows, someone using a mirror to reflect light back at theb. They stopped and watched as there was suddenly a huge commotion in the building, about a half-dozen people rushing past the windows, some of them yelling loud enough to be faintly heard despite the distance.

One of the doors opened, and out stepped out a large and imposing boy about their age, a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. “Get in here!” He yelled, and Neala and Valerie promptly followed.

“Sorry about that, security reasons,” he explained as the two entered the building. “We know who you two are, Sinclair sent pictures. Take the first door to the left, Mina's waiting at the shop floor.”

“Things really that bad around here?” Valerie asked.

“Let's just say for all of our sakes, I hope you two are as good as advertised.” He replied, before he shut the front door after them and bolted then chained it shut.

Ominous as that was, Valerie didn't let it deter her and Neala didn't show it. The two of them went down the directions they were given, exiting the hall for a massive car garage that had been converted into a small production factory. The sight of it had them staring in awe and would have had MacGyver tearing up in pride, many of the machines mechanisms or much needed repairs and replacements made out of salvaged bicycles, old tools, and spare parts lying around or scavenged from the streets. Workers picked out and sorted fruits and ingredients if they weren't chopping them up or dumping them into a vat, several more pedaled and got a great workout as they churned and mixed the concoction, while a third team went to bottling, labeling and freezing it, before they were boxed up and ready to be delivered.

Music, lively conversation, and laughter filtered in along with the hum of the gears and the steady whirring of the mixing machines; some of them even stopped to wave and smile at Valerie and Neala, giving them a warm if brief welcome to the neighbourhood.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” An unfamiliar voice said.

The two turned around to the source.

To Neala, she was just Mina, Sinclair's new business partner and their boss until the delivery had been made.

To Valerie, she was one of the most beautiful girls she had ever seen in her entire life, a goddess with an aura of warmth, friendliness, and an incredibly alluring smile who could _really_ make a messy, fruit juice stained apron work for her.

“Yeah, beautiful...” She mumbled, a hopelessly lovestruck expression on her face.

“Wouldn't normally expect to see something this impressive in a place like this,” Neala quickly added.

Mina smiled. “Which makes me feel all the luckier that it exists—almost the entire neighbourhood pitched in to help, you know! Anyway, I'm Mina, and you two must be Valerie and Neala! Sinclair spoke highly of you two and your skills.” She hummed.

Valerie was about to say something, but stopped dead in her tracks and turned bright red as Mina bent down and kissed on her cheek. “You two have _no_ idea how happy I am to see you here,” she said as she proceeded to do the same to Neala. “Not many would want to go into the Alley even if someone _did_ pay them.”

Valerie chuckled awkwardly. “Hey, we heard you were in need of help, and that's kind of our thing: helping people in need in any way we can.”

Mina smiled mischievously. “ _Any_ way you can, you say…?”

“W-well not _any_ way, but you know...” Valerie trailed off.

Mina laughed. “I'm just having fun, don't be so serious!” She said, though the look in her eyes said part of that wasn't quite true. “And speaking of serious, we should really get going! This delivery's not going to make itself!” She said as she walked off.

“Right!” Valerie said. “Delivery! Which we're here to do. That Sinclair hired us for. And by consequence, you.” She paused awkwardly.

Neala put a hand to her back and Valerie awkwardly kept pace with her as they followed Mina to a bicycle cart loaded with several bottles of the colourful fruit juice they were producing there. One of her workers opened up the nearby garage door for them.

“Want a first taste of Fresa Fiesta before we hit the road?” Mina asked as she mounted the bike. “I'm sure Sinclair will understand if two or four bottles are missing from the total.”

“I'd rather not,” Valerie said as she took to one side. “No offense, but I tend to have… weird reactions to some drinks and foods.”

Mina hummed. “Allergies?” She asked.

“Kinda; it's a _long_ , complicated story.” Neala replied as she took her position on the other.

“Let's just say it'd be for the best if we find out what that stuff can do to me AFTER the delivery's done.” Valerie finished.

Mina shrugged. “Suit yourselves! But just so you know: there might not be any bottles when you finally decide you want to try it~” She hummed.

“These things go fast?” Valerie asked.

“Like hotcakes, only even hotter!” Mina replied. “Fiesta's getting popular and in demand, which is good! It's getting so popular and in demand people want to steal it, which is _not_ so good.”

“I never realized there was a black market for fruit juice,” Neala said.

“Not a black market—the lowlife gangbangers in this neighbourhood, the Junkyard Dogs.” Mina growled, her sunny disposition turning dark and dangerous. “But now you two are here, so they won't be an issue!” She said, switching straight back to her usual sunny, friendly disposition. “Ready to go? Because I am!”

Valerie and Neala grew just a little bit uneasy. “No point in sticking around,” Neala said.

“Wonderful!” Mina said. “Just one more thing before we set out--” She reached into her pockets, and handed them both a switchblade each. “Just in case,” she said darkly, before she started peddling out the garage and onto the streets.

Valerie and Neala looked at each other. Valerie shrugged and pocketed her knife, Neala shook her head and left it behind on a nearby counter before she followed after Mina.

The gloom that loomed over Hangman's Alley hadn't disappeared in the meanwhile, and coming back to it from the sunny and cheery haven that was Mina's street only made it seem even darker. Valerie shoved her hand into the pocket with the knife, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice as all of them kept their eyes and ears open for trouble.

“Hey, do you two think I'm crazy for doing this?” Mina asked as she pedaled. “You know, me being a teenager trying to run a legit business in the worst parts of town.”

“Not at all,” Valerie replied. “I've done crazier, believe me.”

“And you _really_ should.” Neala added.

Mina laughed and smiled. “Thanks. I'm happy I'm not the only one!” She sighed and frowned. “You know, some days, it's really hard to keep on believing in this project of mine... you might not know it from the way it looks now, but it was a nightmare to get the production side set up like this, let alone find buyers!”

“I know that feeling,” Valerie replied. “I was lucky I got some of my crazy plans to work—more so that I found friends like Neala and Sinclair to back me up every step of the way.”

Mina hummed. “You also an entrepreneur that happens to do security work on the side, then?”

“Something like that,” Valerie replied. “It's kind of hard to explain.”

Mina nodded. “Well, whatever it is you do, I really am very glad you two are helping me out; I thought I was done for when the Dogs robbed me last time.”

“They a real problem here in the Alley?” Neala asked.

Mina sighed. “To say the least, yes. They're a bunch of good for nothing lowlifes, just messing with people, intimidating and extorting honest folk, and causing all sorts of trouble for their idea of 'fun.' It doesn't help that they've got it particularly bad for me.”

“What happened?” Valerie asked.

“Let's just say we have a history and leave it at that,” Mina replied calmly.

Valerie nodded and the rest of their trip went on in silence, up until they got within sight of the border that marked the end of the Alley.

“This is weird,” Mina muttered. “The Dogs aren't _this_ patient; they wouldn't wait for me to get this far out of the neighbourhood to try to rob me again.”

“I wouldn't complain, it's good news for us.” Neala said.

“THERE HE IS! GET HIM!” Someone yelled.

The three of them stopped and turned their heads to the voice. A scrawny teen just a little younger than them dashed across the street and into an alley. Three older, nastier looking thugs with rust red all over their clothes and accessories followed soon after, with a look in their eyes that was all too familiar to Valerie.

Their victim double-backed out of the alley, too late in realizing it was a dead-end; their hunters had had fanned out, easily capable of running them down whichever direction they went to. Left without a choice, they scurried back into the alley.

The Junykard Dogs passed by the cart and shared familiar, hostile looks with Mina, but it was clear they had a different target on their mind.

“… And bad news for them.” Valerie growled, before she rushed into the alley after them.

Neala grabbed her and pulled her back just before she could get away. Valerie jerked back and flailed, before she turned around and glared at Neala.

“N'ala?! What are you doing?! Let me go!”

“This isn't your fight, Val!” Neala said.

“She's right! Look, I know gangs—whatever it is you're planning to do, it won't make a difference!”

Valerie scowled at them both. “It'll make a difference to that kid,” she said.

Faster than the both of them could react, Valerie freed herself Neala's grip, leaving her dazed, confused, and clutching her arm in pain. “Valerie--!” Mina cried, but it was clear she was already too late.

Mina and Neala exchanged looks. “Well?” Mina snapped. “Don't just stand there! Help her! I can handle the cart!”

Neala snapped back to her senses and followed after her.

The scene that awaited her in the alley was grim.

The victim had been backed right into a corner, their hunters taking their sweet time closing in on them, enjoying the sight of them sweating and panicking before they finally moved in for the kill. Valerie was some distance away from them, her hair tips already glowing faint purple, and her hand shoved into pocket with her knife.

“End of the line,” the leader among the thugs said. “You know there's only one way out of the Dogs…” She chuckled darkly while her companions raised their fists.

“HEY!” Valerie yelled. “Leave them alone!”

“Wha--?” The leader spun around while her cronies kept an eye on their victim. She scowled at Valerie. “Look, girly, I don't know who you are or what outfit you belong to, but stay out of this, alright? This is Junkyard Dog business, not yours!”

“You don't let them go right now, I'm going to make it mine,” Valerie growled.

The leader leered. “Ooh, playing hero, eh?” She chuckled as she stepped up to Valerie. “Well, girly, I'm not gonna stop ya, but just so you know? This ain't no place for no hero.” She said before she threw a punch at Valerie's head.

Neala had seen Valerie fight before, but she'd never seen her fight without the restrictions and the safety rules of boxing. She effortlessly dodged the jab aimed at her head, moving to the side before her hand flew out and grabbed her opponent's arm, and pulled her down till her jaw met Valerie's palm.

With a horrible noise, the leader staggered back, falling on their back and clutching their mouth in pain. She let out a scream—one she quickly regretted.

Confused and alarmed, her cronies turned around, blinking before they realized that it was their boss that was on the ground and bleeding. The tips of Valerie's hair stopped glowing as she calmly pulled out her switchblade, unsheathing the blade and showing it off for all to see.

“You two saw what I can do with just my hands, want to find out what I can do with a knife?” She asked calmly.

Within seconds, the Junkyard Dogs retreated, their leader between her two cronies. Their victim winced as they watched them go. “You should really get her to an emergency roo...” They trailed off. “Oh, what am I doing…?” They mumbled.

Valerie sheathed her blade and stuffed it back in her pocket. “Hey, you okay?” She asked as she stepped up closer.

“Well, assuming you're not going to rob me, yes.” They replied.

“What was _that_ all about?” Valerie asked.

They looked uneasily around the area. “I'm perfectly willing to answer any and all questions you may have for me so long as you get me somewhere safer—wherever it is you're going seems to be a great choice.”

“Well come on, then.”

Valerie and the former victim walked out of the dead-end. They looked uneasily at Neala, until she held up her hands and said, “I'm with her, don't worry.”

They relaxed, if only a little.

Mina frowned as the trio returned.

“Don't worry, they're going our way.” Valerie said as she returned to her spot.

Mina frowned. “It's not a detour that I'm worried about...” She said before she started pedaling again.

Though they soon left Hangman's Alley behind, Neala had the sinking feeling that their troubles were just beginning.


	51. Chapter 51

Sinclair smiled as she watched Mina roll up to the Might and Right gym's parking lot, looking unscathed from the trip. “Hello again, Mina!” She said, waving with one hand while she beckoned to her other employees with the other. “How'd the delivery go? Without a hitch, I presume?”

Mina waved and smiled back. “Almost! None of the bottles got stolen this time, which is good!”

Sinclair paused, her smile slowly disappearing. “And what's the _not so_ good part this time…?”

Mina gestured to the doors leading back into the building. “Valerie has all the details.” She said as she dismounted her bike. “By the way, I'm afraid I can't reimburse you seeing as they're your friends.”

“Oh, that won't be an issue,” Sinclair said, her voice hollow. She quickly reached into the hidden pocket inside the front of her dress, doled out cash payments and notices of debts paid or work done, and headed into the gym as quickly as she could.

Valerie, Neala, and their new acquaintance were waiting at the snack bar, lounging at one of the tables with a plate of Flaming-O's cereal bars between them. Valerie looked up and waved. “Hey Sinclair! Want some?” She said as she pushed the plate forward.

Sinclair scowled as she stepped up. “Don't you just 'Hey Sinclair' me again until _after_ y'all tell me what in the Sam Hill went wrong with that delivery, and _yes,_ yes I would, in fact!” She snapped, grabbing a cereal bar and angrily chomping down on it.

“Geeze, Sinclair, we got you your goods, didn't we?”

“With some extra baggage that y'all just happened to forget to inform me about!” Sinclair snapped, angrily spluttering bits of chewed up cereal bars at the group. 

Valerie scowled and pulled the plate back to get it out of range. Sinclair shut her eyes and started chewing through the rest of her mouthful, quietly seething all the while.

“Sorry about that, ma'am; your friends here just happened to catch me in the middle of a, uh, really unpleasant fate.” Their new acquaintance said.

Sinclair swallowed. “And what would that be…?”  She asked as she took a seat, her head propped up on the table with one arm.

“Best if I start with introductions: my name's Bones—short for Sawbones. And I _used_ to be a member of the Junkyard Dogs...”

Sinclair stopped. Her eyes widened. “Oh no…”

Valerie grew uneasy. “Did I really screw up that badly?”

“Hopefully not,” Sinclair replied, defeated. “Now c'mon, out with the rest of it so I can properly assess the real cost of this investment of mine?” She continued as she took a remorseful bite out of her cereal bar.

Bones nodded. “ Basically,  the Dogs are  a massive gang  spread out all throughout the bad and forgotten parts of Middleburg , a majority of normal kids run by a minority of very intimidating and very violent thugs. The  strongest are in charge; the rules are made,  edited, and broken freely by those  in charge; and the only way out of the  gang is to fight your way out—which is why  you could say  our retention rates are so high.”  They chuckled weakly.

When no one laughed back, Bones continued.  “ I was their medic—a very important asset, when you tend to have your members  getting banged up and beat up  on a n almost daily basis. Now, I'm a firm believer in giving medical aid to those that  need  them, but after two years of treating them for bruises, bumps, and cuts , and  then  get a  _different_ set of bruises, bumps, and cuts  soon after they recover … well, I'm pretty sure I was violating something in the Hippocratic Oath by staying in their service.

“So I decided to leave. Without telling anyone beforehand. But I did leave a resignation letter!

“I assumed they wouldn't go the way they did with every other deserter, as worst come to worst, they could always rope me back into their service, and a medic isn't good without two working arms, all ten fingers, and both eyes, believe me. I was in the middle of leaving the Alley for a while when I found out our leader Rex likes to prioritize making an example over being practical...”

“And this was when your paths just happened to cross?” Sinclair asked.

Bones nodded. “Rex and her goons had me cornered at a dead end. Lucky for me, Valerie came to my rescue. Unlucky for her, she may have broken her nose in the process, and Rex is already vengeful and _extremely_ thorough with anyone that earns her ire, more so with anyone that leaves a mark and reminds people she's not as invincible as she claims she is.

“To use the old cliché: this won't be the last time you've seen her.”

V alerie grinned. “I'll be ready when she comes back,  then .”

Bones frowned.  “ I don't think you understand: Rex doesn't fight fair, she fights to win. And I do mean  _whatever_ it takes to win: ambush by day, ambush by night, throwing rocks through your houses windows, threatening your friends and family while they go about their day,  beating them up if they so much as come within any of the territories under her control,  spreading nasty rumours about you—there's  a reason everyone either stopped ragging on the Dogs  and started hiding from them  or joined up ”

Valerie frowned. “Then it looks like I'll have  to pay her a visit soon...” She growled.

“As a future doctor, I'd have to advise against that: Rex alone is a dangerous fighter, and she's rarely alone or caught unprepared—it's safe to assume this time, you just got lucky.”

“Bones is right. My papa's taught me all about gangs, Val: this isn't how you stop them.”

“Well what do you suppose I do now, then?” Valerie snapped. “Just let this jerk and her lackeys go ham on any of you when I least expect it?”

“We could call the police?” Neala offered.

“Not gonna work,” Mina said as she came up to the table. “Police haven't been into the Alley for a long, _long_ time. Only way you're getting them back is if every other police force in the country is going into their streets to clean them up, too.”

“Maybe we could appeal to 'em with business?” Sinclair asked. “I'm sure we can work out some sort of mutually beneficial agreement with the Dogs. Can't we?”

“Tried that,” Mina said sadly. “Their rates are 'every single penny you earn in gross plus tribute,' non-negotiable.”

“… We could tell your mommy…?” Neala offered weakly.

Valerie paled. “Oh,  _sure,_ just tell her all about how I  got roped up with a violent street gang  and how we need her to bail us out , like  _that's_ going to go down well for  _any_ of  us .”

B ones meekly raised their hand. “Um, if I may offer a solution...”

Valerie looked at them. “I'm listening.”

“As you might expect, Rex isn't a very popular leader. If we were a democracy, she would have been given the boot before day one ended, but unfortunately, our political wars are waged with fists and not propaganda, slander, and bribery, so her seat on the top of the ladder is pretty secure.

“However, she's not invincible, and just a _tad_ bit overconfident and brash. There's no shortage of people who want to rise up against Rex, overthrow her, and do away with her and the Dogs—Mina over here being one of the best, and unfortunately, rare successful examples. If there was a suddenly a rival gang springing up out of nowhere, she'd be liable to make some bad, hasty decisions, especially if they happened to be made up of deserters from the Junkyard Dogs...

“About the only thing they need is a leader who can unite them.”

V alerie nodded  once . “Well, it looks like I know what I'm doing this summer! Whoever wants to start a gang war with me, say I.”

“I.” Mina said. “The Dogs have been a plague on the neighbourhood for years, I'll be glad to finally see them gone.”

Sinclair sighed. “I. I've got this sinkin' feelin that so long as the Dogs are around, they're all gonna be a serious pain in my behind just for kicks; ain't much use to invest anythin' that you ain't sure won't be stolen or wrecked. I'm only purely financial, negotiation, and logistical support, mind you.”

“Wouldn't have you doing anything else, Sinclair.” Valerie said.

“I.” Bones said. “From the sound of things, someone's going to get hurt—hopefully not us, but it never hurts to have a medic on board.”

Valerie smiled, then turned to the only person that had kept quiet. “N'ala?”

Neala closed her eyes, and sighed. “Not I. I don't know how we're going to get out of this exactly, Val, but I don't think making a gang to fight a gang is going to work out as well as you think it will.”

“Hey, it worked the first time around, didn't it?” Valerie smiled.

Neala didn't smile back. “This isn't elementary school, Val.”

“Fair enough,” Valerie replied. “Just know I'd really appreciate you having my back, okay?”

“Okay.” Neala said before she got up and left the table.

“Alright, first order of business: Mina, Bones, I want you to go out and recruit as many kids as you possibly can.” Valerie said. “I need enough numbers to let Rex know that we're serious. Sinclair? Logistics. We're going to need to be able to communicate, supply, and put to work a lot of new employees and associates...”

“Got it, we'll send the word out, Commander.” Bones replied.

Valerie looked at them. “What'd you just call me?”

“'Commander.'” Bones repeated. “You're going to need an intimidating nickname if you're going to get any respect in the Alley. Unless you'd rather choose something else...”

Neala didn't bother listening in on the rest, busy thinking of how she was going to convince Valerie to take a less violent approach.

* * *

“You really don't have to do this, Neala,” Bones said as they walked away from Mina's building, towards their own home a block or so away. “The Dogs may be vicious and bloodthirsty, but even _they_ know when to pull back and stay for a while, especially after that example Valerie's made of Rex.”

“I don't want to take any chances,” Neala replied.

Bones nodded. “I take it there's a gang problem in your neighbourhood, too?”

“There _was_ one at our school until Valerie cleaned it up.”

“I'm surprised I haven't heard about her in the news!”

“You probably never will—most of her plans were effective, but not exactly legal.”

Bones nodded. “The Commander sure is something, isn't she? I thought she had just gotten a lucky shot with Rex, but now I'm pretty sure she's got more than just luck on her side.”

Neala smiled. “Pulling surprises up her sleeve, and beating impossible odds is kind of Valerie's thing.”

“Hard not to really like someone like that,” Bones said.

Neala slowed down and gave Bones a look.

Bones sucked in a breath. “I'm sorry, Neala, but when you work with people as often as I do, you notice things about them.”

Neala frowned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Not as obvious as the Commander tends to be, but I think that's the least of your problems.”

Neala frowned deeper. “Do you think I have a chance with her?”

“Hard to say—I don't really know the Commander that well, and you never really know until you try. Look, as someone who's had to help mend wounds physical and emotional? Just give it a shot and see what happens. I can't say from personal experience, but I have noticed that never having said it and gotten the chance to see if maybe you could have happened hurts worse than getting rejected.”

Neala looked away. “I'll think about it.”

“Might want to think about it soon, Neala,” Bones said as they stepped up the front porch of an aged house. “Like in medicine, it's best to get at it early.” They said before they put their key into front door. “Stay safe out there.”

“You too,” Neala replied as she made her way back up the street. She stopped as she felt someone watching her. She looked across the street and up at the window of a dilapidated house, a thug with a rust red shirt glared at her while they recorded her with their phone.

“Rex's eyes and ears, probably documenting you for the Wanted board.” Bones said. “Don't worry, so long as you, any of your friends or family don't show up at the Alley for a while, you'll all be fine.” They finished before they went inside.

Neala nodded and resumed walking at a brisk pace, squaring her shoulders and putting on a fierce expression just to be sure. With her large, imposing build, the Junkyard Dogs and the other inhabitants of the Alley gave her a wide berth.

She relaxed as soon as she crossed the border and out of the Alley, still plenty of afternoon sun to spare before she needed to head home. There was no need to worry, she thought to herself, Valerie would be more than capable of keeping herself and others safe, and it wasn't like anyone else they knew would have business even _near_ Hangman's Alley.

Or so she thought.

* * *

_Need your help. At Quail Street bus stop. Bring the kit._

With sudden, vague, and ominous texts at eight in the evening, most people would have immediately texted back a demand for answers before they did anything; Neala just got out of bed, pulled out a backpack hidden under her closet, and headed out as quickly as she could.

“I'm going out!” Neala called out just before went out the front door. She hurried to the bus stop before any of her parents could stop her, and boarded one headed for the parts of town her parents had warned her never to go to.

The scenery changed quickly, from the familiar red bricks and proudly restored and maintained facades of the townhouses and apartment buildings of her street, passing through the outskirts of Middleburg's downtown area with all of its fringe shops and trendy indie cafes, before the bus made a sharp turn and everything steadily got worse and worse with each passing street. The streetlamps above started to be dim or just broken, the grey and gloomy buildings looked neglected to outright abandoned, and the sight of the few people walking the streets at that late hour made her very glad she wasn't with them.

The bus rolled up to her stop, and Neala bolted out of it as quickly as she could, the backpack slung over her shoulder. She looked around her surroundings: there was a tiny convenience store behind the Quail Street bus stop, the rest of the area flanked by abandoned buildings, filthy streets, and the one burned down and cleared lot that had a faded, broken “FOR SALE” sign on it for years.

She stopped as she finally saw Tiana. She was the only person sitting at the waiting shed, head down, fresh bruises and bleeding cuts all over her skin, her hoodie balled up in her hand and pressed up against the worst of her wounds.

Tiana looked up with a ferocious look in her eyes, before she saw it was Neala and the anger disappeared. Without a word, Neala set the backpack down beside her, and got to work.

The kit had everything Tiana could ever need in an emergency: a first aid kit complete with some over-the-counter medications, a change of clothes, cash, some concealer, and a number of written lists and numbers about people and addresses that could help them if going back to their parents was the absolute last resort.

It was a small relief that they only needed the first two for that night.

Neala repacked the first aid kit and made a note to get more bandages while Tiana dumped her bloody and torn hoodie into a trashcan nearby. The two of them sat together, waiting for the next bus to roll around, both their expressions neutral.

“Thanks.” Tiana said.

Neala didn't reply.

They spent the entire trip back home without sharing another word. Their mother was waiting for them and an explanation about where they'd been, and was less than pleased to see the sorry state Tiana was in, covered in all manner of bandages, Band-Aids, to say the least. Their father just shook his head sadly and fetched an ice pack. Neala headed back into her room while Tiana stayed in the kitchen, getting a repeat of a lecture their mother may as well have had on tape at this point.

It was late at night when Neala got another text. She looked at the time—2 AM—then at the message:

“I owe you one question. My room.”

Tiana was laying back on her bed when Neala got there, no shirt and most of her chest covered in bandages. “Mama made it look worse than it actually is—she always does.” Tiana said. “Now c'mon, what do you want to know? Why I was hanging around the wrong side of the tracks at night? What was so bad that I called you for help?”

“Who did this to you, Tia?” Neala asked.

Tiana groaned. “Bunch of jerkbags who called themselves the Junkyard Dogs. Don't bother asking why—they just yelled their name and some nonsense I didn't get before they jumped on me from an alley. Don't bother worrying about them, either—they came out of this worse than me.” She grinned and chuckled to herself.

Neala nodded, and said nothing. Tiana could sense something was wrong, but she had already walked back out the door and to her room.

Neala locked her door, pulled out her phone from her pocket, and sent a single text to Valerie:

_I_


	52. Chapter 52

_A week later..._

“Thanks for letting us use the whole training mat, Auntie Sonia,” Neala said.

Sonia, manager and owner of the Might and Right Gym, waved her off and smiled. “It's no problem, N'ala!”

“And you promise not to tell my papa or Mrs. Kobayashi about what we're doing here?”

Sonia smiled. “Hey, you all paid up, and it's not like you're doing anything illegal, aren't you?”

Neala didn't say anything.

Sonia Neala on her shoulder. “You're one of the most honest and downright good girls I've ever known in my entire life; I know whatever it is you and those other kids are doing, it's nothing I've got to worry about!

“Go on now, I know there's a reason you arranged this when your father and Sashi aren't working!” Sonia said playfully.

Neala nodded and headed off. She had to stop as she came within sight of the training mat, and the sheer number of teenagers spread out all over it and the benches, Bones and Sinclair busy ushering them in and keeping some semblance of order. They were an incredibly diverse mix of boys and girls around her age, just a few months or a year from officially being an adult at the oldest, to barely having entered puberty at the youngest, with their appearances even more varied. About the one thing that united them all, however, was that they all looked like they wouldn't fare too well in a straight up brawl, and that all from less than luxurious backgrounds and home lives.

“Bones wasn't kidding when they said that all they needed was a leader,” Valerie said as she stepped up beside Neala.

Neala kept on staring. “What'd you tell these kids?”

“'We're the Alley Cats, and we're taking down the Junkyard Dogs.'” Valerie said, grinning. “Like it? Mina came up with it, isn't it awesome?”

Neala nodded slowly. “It certainly got the job done, that's for sure.”

“Mhmm!” Valerie hummed. “Now we move on to the next step of this plan: teaching these kids how to fight!”

Neala cringed. “Val, no offense, but I don't think even your skills can whip these guys up into a crack fighting force for a gang war.”

“I'm not doing that, and trust me, a war is the last thing on my mind as it was Sun Tzu's. These kids are mostly just scared for themselves and their families; even if we can't train them to go head to head with the Dogs, we can at least teach them how to defend themselves and be a little less afraid to go out of their own homes.”

Neala nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Later, I'll need you as my second instructor, but for now, I'll need you as my training dummy! Now come on, let's go.” Valerie said before she marched over to them, Neala following after her.

Conversation ceased and the newly recruited Alley Cats smartened up as Valerie approached; though you could see the varying levels of confidence and skepticism on their faces clear as day, they were all at least willing to hear out what she had to say.

“I know how every single one of you feel,” Valerie started. “You feel helpless. Weak. Powerless. Like the world's personal chew toy, to get battered and beaten by every single person around, and then heaped on with a huge dose of bad luck just for kicks.

“Most of all, however, you feel scared—scared for your own safety, scared for your friends, scared for your family, and almost all of it because of one single group that decided it'd be 'fun' to make your lives miserable:

“The Junkyard Dogs.”

Many faces turned pale with fear; others snarled at the mere mention. The rest remained neutral.

“They think they're strongest around. They think they're invincible. They think they can push us around as much as they like and we'll never, ever fight back. And I'm pretty sure you've started to think that, too.

“But I know better.

“I know bullies. I've fought bullies. And believe you me, I've beaten bullies, showed them that they _aren't_ the strongest, that they _aren't_ invincible, that they can only push us around _so much_ until we finally snap and bite back.”

Valerie grinned. “Welcome to your first official assembly of the Alley Cats, people! I'm Valerie Kobayashi, AKA the Commander, and today, I'm going to tell you how we're going to take down Rex and get rid of the Junkyard Dogs once and for all. I know this isn't the first time any of you have heard this, but I promise you know—especially you moles in the audience—this'll be the _last_ time you hear this, because I will not rest until I personally see Rex thrown off her perch and her cronies scattered, in hiding, or under _my_ control.

“I can see most of you don't exactly believe me, and frankly, I don't blame any you; I don't look the part, and it's easy for someone to spout on and on about big dreams and grand plans and never actually follow up on them. But unlike them, I've already got some progress to back up my claim: I'm sure many of you have taken advantage of the caravans and safe traveling routes my friend Mina has established, and more than a few of you wouldn't have come here if Sinclair hadn't paid you to.

“Some of you may be taking advantage of this until you think Rex can take us down, but if all goes right, you won't need it anymore, because I've got plans for Hangman's Alley: plans to make it safe, make it free, and make it a place that people will want to live in.

“Because I've seen what happens when you take down the bullies that make life a living hell. I've seen what happens when people band together to fight them off. I've seen what happens when you keep on fighting until we've changed the world into a place where bullies like them aren't welcome, where it's still far from perfect, but things are a whole lot more fair to everyone…”

Valerie wiped a tear from her eye. “… And it is _beautiful.”_

“Now, enough talk, you folks came here to see some action, and I'm going to give you action. I'm assuming you're all well-versed in sensing trouble, running away from it, and avoiding it as much as possible, now me and my friend Neala—AKA Leona—will be teaching you what to do in case you're cornered and trouble decides to find you.

“First things first!: How many of you here know how to fight?”

No hands went up.

Valerie blinked. “Seriously…?”

“I only said they were against Rex, Commander!” Bones called from the miniature first aid station they'd set up. “I never specified they could fight.”

Valerie frowned. “Fair enough… okay, then what did you guys do back in the Junkyard Dogs?”

“I stole sodas for them,” one said.

“They use me as a waiter/footstool...” another continued.

“I just drive a pick-up truck,” a third chimed in.

The line continued, every single one of the assembled members having had a job that involved no combat whatsoever like spying or scouting, ones that involved luxuries they had like cars, a game console, or a backyard swimming pool, and the rest a mix of completely menial, oftentimes demeaning jobs like being a fan boy for Rex and her higher ranking cronies.

Valerie paused, processing the fact that she had a huge army that was completely, absolutely useless for any form of combat whatsoever. “OKAY!” She cried as she threw her hands up. “I can work with this! Just… give me a minute… N'ala, come with me...” she said as she went off to a quiet corner.

Unease spread over the Alley Cats, but because of hope, or Sinclair's promise of free food if they stayed for the whole meeting, none of them left.

“Not going according to plan?” Neala asked.

“The plan was to take whatever fighting styles they knew, and refine them so they'd have a better shot at winning a street brawl, not teach several dozen people with no self-defense skills whatsoever how to not get beaten to a bloody pulp.” Valerie grumbled. “It's fine, I've planned for this, too.”

“What do you need me to do now?”

Valerie smiled. “Up for getting kneed in the crotch?” She asked half-jokingly.

The two of them returned to their assembled crowd. “Alright, change of lesson plan, but not the lesson itself: today I'm going to teach you easy ways to take down someone who's bigger, stronger, and faster than you. The important thing to remember in any fight is that, barring them wearing armour, every human body will have the same weak spots: eyes, nose, ears, neck, groin, knee, legs—lots of places you can hit where you can be guaranteed to cause a lot of damage with very little effort.

“There's an even bigger number of tactics if you find yourself beside a nice, hard concrete wall or a heavy object handy, but for now, let's assume you're caught in the middle of the street with nowhere to run, no equipment, with someone like N'ala here: undeniably bigger, stronger, and more intimidating than you are.”

Neala frowned uneasily. “Should I… put on a thug face or something?”

“No need,” Valerie replied. “Now, assuming you're like me—tiny, noodly, and with lots of sharp elbows and knees—about the best thing you can do in this situation is to strike Neala in the crotch. Punch, knee, or a high-kick if you can manage, I guarantee you, all but the toughest fighters won't crumple to the ground with a well-placed hit.”

“Wait: you're not going to _seriously_ hit me, are you?” Neala asked quickly.

“Of course not, N'ala!” Valerie replied. “You know I'd never _intentionally_ hurt you! Now, back to the demo: in case of a knee strike, its best to get a good grip—thugs of this size usually wear loose shirts or baggy jeans, which are perfect for grabbing. Then, before your enemy can react, simply raise your knee as high as you possibly can and hope you--”

“VALERIE!”

There was barely a sound as Valerie's knee impacted Neala's lady bits, but everyone in the room, male, female, or Bones, certainly felt it. Valerie let go of Neala in shock, she promptly fell back like a massive tree and crashed onto the mat, hands protectively held over her injured area.

“There's someone here who wants to see you!” Sonia continued. “Don't know who they are, but they're really persistent they see you first!”

Valerie stared at the fallen Neala. “Medic!” She cried. Bones promptly rushed over with an icepack.

“Sorry...” She said to Neala, before she turned back to the group. “Take five everyone, I'll just go see what this is about!” She said, silently apologizing to Neala one more time before she headed across the gym and to the reception area.

She took one look at the rust red bandana that had been tied around her visitor's neck, and immediately took a strong disliking of him. The rest of his appearance didn't help.

Like Sinclair, she struck her as the business type, but in contrast to her friendly aura the Junkyard Dog had all the cool, calm, and confidence of a high powered businessman who _really_ didn't want to be dealing with this right now. Even their appearances couldn't be more different, him an absurdly tall, gangly stick man in a faded and patched up suit coat.

“You must be the Commander, the leader of the Alley Cats.” He said. “I'm Silver, negotiator and CFO of sorts for the Junkyard Dogs. Might we be able to have a little chat?” He smiled.

“Depends,” Valerie replied, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Business.” Silver said, his smile turning into a neutral line. “I was hoping we could reach a truce of sorts, end this trouble you've caused my employer and her organization without it escalating to the all-out war she's so keen on launching.”

“Sinclair handles negotiations, you go talk to her.” Valerie said as she spun around.

“While normally, I would oblige you immediately, I've got this feeling you'll want to be involved in these negotiations—especially since it involves your family.”

Valerie stopped.

“The reach of the Junkyard Dogs extends far past the Alley, you know; we even have active members who make their haunts on streets long abandoned, like the one that's home to the Odyssey theater.”

Valerie slowly turned around. “Let me tell the others. Meet you at the snack bar.”

Silver nodded. “Happily.”

* * *

Neala recovered quickly and took over the class, while Valerie and Silver sat themselves at a quiet table. Tension ran high between them, but the adults and the other kids didn't notice; it seemed that that the difference in height between them made for excellent cover—Valerie's feet unable to reach the floor, Silver's knees bent up slightly for the length of his legs.

“Alright, you've got my attention, talk.” Valerie said.

“I'll have to hand it to you, Commander, you've pissed off Rex quite a great deal. Keeping her from robbing Mina of another shipment, causing a mass defection in her ranks, and the ugly number you've done on her nose—well, let's just say that few have been able or willing to earn this level of ire from her in so short a time and with such great efficiency.”

Valerie smiled. “I'll take that a compliment.”

Silver frowned. “She's angry—even angrier than she usually is. And not helping matters is the fact that you've also caused a _huge_ uproar and a disruption in the Dog's daily operations—as Bones may have already told you, it's those members you've got in this gym that have helped things operate smoothly, the fighters fighting for us, and Rex in power.

“There's trouble brewing—a revolt from the inside, and from the outside, once Rex inevitably beats the dissenters back into line. War is coming, and unfortunately, war is incredibly expensive, problematic, and with many long-term consequences that the spoils just don't measure up.

“So what I'm offering you is this: a truce. The Junkyard Dogs will consider Mina and all her employees from before the formation of the Alley Cats completely off-limits, as with you, your friends, and your families. We'll even throw in what's left of Mina's shipment of Fresa Fiesta, though I have to warn you, there's not much of it left—it's pretty popular stuff.”

Valerie nodded. “Sounds good. What's the catch?”

“You dissolve the Alley Cats, and send all the defectors back to us, so they can resume their duties. Simple as that.”

“Then what happens to them?”

“They stop being your concern, Commander.”

Valerie scowled. “Which means they're going to be Rex's personal chew toys again, aren't they?”

Silver nodded. “To put it bluntly, yes; this _is_ a truce, not a surrender. I'm assuming this means no deal?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Valerie said.

Silver sighed. “I'm afraid you leave me with no other choice but war, Commander. An army of disorganized thugs vs an army of errand boys and girls, this should be fun...” He mumbled.

“Isn't there any other way?”

“I'm afraid you'll have to take that directly to Rex—a truce or a full-out war are the only options I can offer you.”

“Got her number, then?” Valerie asked.

Silver paused. “You do realize you're about the last person she wants to see, let alone talk to, right?”

“Yes, and do _you_ realize that that's the only way you're going to keep a war from happening?”

“She'll only do face-to-face talks, Commander, and frankly, you aren't a very welcome face at the Alley.”

“Will she listen to me, though?”

“Maybe. And this is a _very_ slim, almost non-existent chance, to be clear.”

Valerie shrugged. “Eh, I've taken worse odds. When can we meet?”

“I feel obliged to warn you: Rex has a love of getting people to come to her at ungodly and inconvenient hours to discourage ever meeting them.”

“Does she ever change the time at the last minute?”

“Not if they chose to show up at the agreed time, no.”

“Then set it up.”

Silver paused. “Commander, I'm not entirely sure if you're brave or just stupid, but consider me _very_ impressed.”

“Impressed enough to change sides?” Valerie smiled. “I could always use an extra head for business.”

“Unfortunately not,” Silver replied. “Not all of us are lucky enough to have first sworn loyalty to someone like you, Commander.”

“Offer still stands, Silver.”

Silver smiled. “I appreciate that. Farewell, Commander; I must say, I'm very pleased to see I was wrong about you.”

“See you, Silver—I'm pleased to see I was wrong about you, too.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

The two parted ways, Silver crafting a serious argument for Valerie, and her thinking of how many spoons she'd need when she walked right into the heart of enemy territory.


	53. Chapter 53

_Friday evening..._

For however much Valerie hated the Junkyard Dogs, their members, and everything they'd done, she had to admit, they had excellent taste in headquarters.

Originally three separate buildings—a billiards hall, a boxing gym, and the apartments above both—the Dogs had broken down the walls, built bridges through the windows, and patched up and built all manner of structures to repair and replace damage, then filled the rest of the space to the brim with as many luxuries, furniture, and goods as they could.

Old couches and other salvaged seating made the area incredbily comfortable, senior members lazing about on them while they ordered their inferiors around. On one corner, games of pool, darts, and foosball went on; a group was huddled around a massive LED TV, watching bootleg footage of an MMA fight; and on the side, there were people playing or cheering on the players of the arcade machines. They was bar of sorts in one corner, where there was a dedicated staff slinging bottles of soda across the bar top or bringing it over to those hanging out at the tables, along with snacks both pre-packaged and short orders from their miniature kitchen.

To top it all off, a speaker system had been jury-rigged, blasting your usual mix of gangster rap, metal, and rock to get the members blood pumping and their heads banging.

Valerie sighed. “Man, if only I wasn't sure almost every single thing in here had been stolen, robbed, or bought with dirty money...” she said wistfully.

“The Doghouse has always been the envy of gangbangers everywhere, Commander.” Bones said. “Though as of recently, not as much.”

As if on cue, there was a series of yelling from different parts of the base. Valerie watched as one poor soul dropped what they were doing and ran off, to the anger of the thugs they were already serving, and the ire of the ones that may have needed them for something later. She couldn't imagine what fate awaited them, but it could only be unpleasant.

“I'm _very_ glad I wasn't here the day after almost everyone left,” Bones added.

“Hey!” The guard behind them yelled. “Did you come here on tour or did you come here to talk to Rex? Get moving!”

Valerie glared at them, Bones meekly hung their head, before they and the rest of their party got a move on.

Neala had joined as soon as Valerie said she was going to negotiate with Rex, face to face, in her own territory. As always, Tiana tried to get it her to spill the details, but as she wasn't ready to tell her about where it was _she_ was disappearing to every day without explanation, Neala had left the gym at another stalemate.

Surprisingly, Sinclair agreed to come. “Best we got a level head if'n we do some _actual_ negotiations,” she said, though from the way she shied away from almost everyone in the area, let alone the more threatening looking members, she was seriously regretting that decision.

They were ushered through a walled up alley, a tarpaulin roof high up above their heads, and through a door and into the heart of the Doghouse—their gym.

The equipment was all stolen, salvaged, or jury-rigged. The weights were rarely new, most of them aged lead weights and starting to rust, if they weren't pipes with concrete filled buckets attached to either end. The punching bags, dummies, and mats were made of old, ripped up leather and other materials, duct tape, dollar store thread, and cheap repairs the only thing keeping the Dogs from literally knocking the stuffing out of them. What few official exercise machines they had on hand were in extremely good condition, a small team on hand to wipe them down, keep them oiled, and keep them working.

In the center of it all, surrounded by rows of bleachers, flanked by two raised platforms, and with a tennis official's chair looming over it was the Pit, a boxing ring that had been converted into the center stage of the Junkyard Dog's favourite past time:

Senseless, brutal violence.

There were no safety rules in the Pit. Fighters went in with the clothes on their back, and nothing else. The crowds cheered and bayed for blood, the referee was really just there to record it, and on one corner, there was a locker filled to the brim with weapons, from baseball bats, knives, and even a pair of nunchuks; a cheerful sign above it called them the “Mixer-Uppers.”

There was a match going on when they first arrived—one boy, large, imposingly built, with a scarred, muscular body honed from so many years on the streets, the other a familiar girl with murder in her eyes, and an ugly bright red and blue nose from a horrific swelling that just wouldn't go down.

Bones winced as they watched them tangle, punching and kicking, throwing each other around, striking at wherever and whenever as the opportunity presented itself. “Commander...” they said as they pointed to the nearby “Clinic,” a series of cots and medical cabinets staffed by a small handful of clueless looking members.

Valerie nodded and Bones quietly scurried off to their old post. The rest of them carefully made their way up to the stage.

Rex's opponent had landed several good blows on her, but it seemed that she only became stronger with each strike, her counterattacks even more vicious. She tripped her opponent, sending him down to the floor with a loud thud; he tried to get up, but a quick, brutal kick to the stomach sent him reeling, making it easy for her to straddle him and prepare to pound away at him with her fists.

She had just raised her arm when she and Valerie locked eyes.

The grin on Rex's lips turned into a snarl. She picked herself up and calmly walked out of the ring, the crowd parting for her until she and Valerie were inches away from each other.

“You...” Rex growled. “I didn't think you'd actually show up.”

“Well here I am, Rex,” Valerie replied calmly. “So, how about that talk?”

“I should have you and your friends all beaten to a paste for what you did to me and my Dogs...” Rex snarled.

Valerie wanted to snap back at her, but Silver standing up out of the crowd and hurriedly making his way to them reminded her that wouldn't be such a good idea.

“Yes, the talk!” Silver cried as he maneuvered himself through the audience—a difficult feat, with his long limbs and how tightly packed they were. “Commander, if you'll just be so kind as to step up to the ring and leave your companions back with the guards, Rex will be right with you.” He said as he finally broke through the line that had formed around them.

Valerie shared quiet looks with her friends. They both looked worried, but they stepped away from the ring and back to the guards some distance away, Sinclair a shuffling little faster than Neala.

Rex and Valerie glared at each other, the air suddenly filled with great tension before Valerie climbed into the ring and Rex followed after her. A small team of Dogs dragged Rex's former opponent out of the ring and to the clinic, leaving the stage all for them.

Valerie shielded her eyes as the spotlights were suddenly trained on her. “Gah! Can't afford a nice office with a desk and some chairs, Rex?”

“Lots of people have talked big to my face; I'm just making sure _everyone_ knows _exactly_ what they said when it's time to own up to it.” Rex replied. “So, you little rat, what'd you want to say to me?”

Valerie looked up at the referee/cameraman. “That thing recording?” They gave her a thumbs up. “Good.” She turned back to Rex. “Rex… I challenge you to a one-on-one fight, winner takes control of the other's gang!” She cried.

The crowd paused for a moment to take it in. Then, the whole place went wild, roaring and cheering, taunting Valerie and egging Rex on to take it.

Rex scowled, Valerie grinned.

“SHUT UP!” Rex screamed, and the whole gym went deathly silent. _“No._ You want to take over _my_ gang? You prove to me that you can do what I did—fight your way from the very bottom all the way to the top.”

The crowd went even wilder at that, many of them screaming to let them at Valerie right there and then.

She ignored them and started counting the number of Junkyard Dogs she could see, mentally added that with how many she had seen earlier, along with an estimate of how many she had yet to meet. “ _All_ of them?”

“Yeah, all of them!” Rex snapped. “What, the Top Cat's pussying out?” She leered.

“ _Believe me,_ I would if I could, but I don't think I can do it unless you space it out for a few days.”

“Not happening! You do it all in one day, back-to-back fights, or the deal's off! And if the deal's off, you and your friends are going to have to fight your way out of here...” Rex grinned.

The crowd hooted, some of them cracked their knuckles and readied themselves for a fun time. Back with the guards, Sinclair paled and Neala stiffened, while at the clinic, Bones looked up and blinked.

Valerie face fell in horror, Rex grinned.

“I'll join her!” Neala yelled. “I'll take on the weaker ones, Valerie will fight all of your best fighters—you included!”

Rex scowled at her. “And why should I give her a fighting chance, huh?”

“Because you can stand to make a lot more from the fight if it's got both Valerie and Neala in it!” Sinclair yelled. “They've both get very good brandin' from where we come from, believe you me! Any fight between the two of them gets a _huge,_ loyal crowd, so imagine how much larger and much more profitable them against the entirety of the Junkyard Dogs'll be?” She quickly added, sweat pouring down her face.

“We can charge for admission! And the footage! And the livestream!” Silver added. “It'll seriously help make up for all the damage the Alley Cats have done to us, and then some!”

Rex looked at all of them in turn. “You're all just pulling this out of your asses, aren't you?” She smiled. “You know what? Let's do it—it'll make it _so_ much sweeter when we hand both your asses back to all of you.” She turned to the crowd, now teetering and anxious with excitement. “You heard them all! Gonna be a fight, right here in the Pit—these two 'Alley Cats' versus all of us Junkyard Dogs! Winner takes over the other gang!

“Are we going to let these jerks _win_?!”

“ **NO!”** The crowd boomed.

“Right! Because _who are we_?!”

“ **THE JUNKYARD DOGS!”**

“And _who's_ in charge?!”

“ **REX!”**

Rex held up her hand and the crowd went into a frenzy. She lazily paraded around the ring, giving Valerie and her friends confident, smug smirks. Valerie took the opportunity to get her friends out of the arena before any of the Dogs decided to pull something early.

“Well that went fantastically...” She said as they exited the Doghouse, back onto the streets to Mina's place. “I'm sorry it went so wrong, guys—I was so sure she was going to take my first offer...”

“We can't all be right all the time, Valerie,” Sinclair said. “Now stop wallowing in self pity and focus on winning this here fight—lotsa people are counting on you, and I know y'all won't let 'em down.”

“I won't.” Valerie said. “I just wish it hadn't turned out the way it did….” She cast an apologetic glance at Neala.

Neala smiled. “I wouldn't have offered it if I wasn't ready to do it, Val. My papa taught me how to fight to defend those that couldn't defend themselves—though I think he never meant fighting in a gang war, though.”

“Neither did my mommy, I'd think. Man, we are _so_ lucky neither of them had found out yet.”

“Found out what?” A fifth voice asked.

The four of them stopped as Tiana stepped up from a nearby alley, a _very_ unamused expression on her face. “You guys said something about a gang war?” She growled.

Sinclair paled, Bones hid behind the others, Valerie and Neala shared surprised looks, before both their faces turned resigned. “We'll tell you all about it once we get back to Mina's place,” Valerie said.

“Fine.” Tiana said.

* * *

Mina waited for them at the door, all sunshine and smiles as usual until she saw the foursome coming back with a fifth behind them. “Things didn't work out so well, I'm guessing?” She asked.

“We'll discuss it inside, Mina,” Valerie said as they shuffled in one by one. “It's a _long_ story. Besides, I need to rest; I'm running low on spoons.”

“As you say.” Mina said, before she turned to Tiana. “Hello! You must be Tiana, Neala's twin sister! She hasn't talked much about you, but I'm sure that--”

Tiana held up her hand. “ _Can it_. Whoever you are, you've definitely got something to do with the giant heaping of trouble my sister's 'friend' roped her in, so whatever it is you've got to say? I don't want to hear it.” She snapped, before she sulked inside.

“Well, at least now we know why she doesn't talk about her so much,” Bones said.

Mina giggled.

“HEY! I heard that!” Tiana yelled.

They all gathered in the kitchen, a sunny, cheery little nook with bright yellow tiles, all manner of permanent food stains splattered over most every surface, and colourful nicknacks and souvenirs to give the place yet more life alongside the plants growing from the hanging pots, though it wasn't quite as nice awash with artificial light than natural sunshine. Mina busied herself with preparing an evening snack for them, Valerie shufffled off to the living room for a nap, while the rest filled in Tiana.

The look on her face was sullen when they started, going to angry, to fearful, to disbelieving, and finally, to resigned.

By the time Valerie woke up from her nap, Tiana was quietly simmering with hatred, and everyone was all set with food and glasses of Flora Fiesta from a pitcher. “Evening folks,” she said as she took the only free chair left. “You all done with story time, or were you just waiting on me to clarify some things?”

“We're done.” Tiana growled. “You know, Valerie, I was going to yell at you for getting my sister in big trouble, then beat you to a bloody pulp and tell you never to see her ever again, but from what everyone here tells me, you're my best bet of getting her out of it.

“So, _genius_ , what's your brilliant master plan?”

“What else?” Valerie replied. “We train daily for the next two weeks, show up at the fight, and beat up the Junkyard Dogs till they surrender!”

Tiana blinked. “That's it?!” She cried.

“Got any suggestions...?” Valerie asked.

Tiana squeezed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head. “Okay, whatever regime you've got planned? scrap it—you're going by _my_ rules now. These guys don't fight like you two have in your sparring matches, they're really going to do whatever it takes to knock you out, and you're both going to have to do the same if you want a chance of winning a round, let alone the whole damn tournament.

“Soon as the gym opens, I expect to see you two there at the ring. I'm teaching you both every single move I know, you, and whenever you want to spar? You're both going to be doing it with _me_ —three minutes, no surrendering, and _all the_ crazy ninja moves or secret marital arts techniques from you, pipsqueak!”

“And since when did you become the street fighting queen?” Valerie asked.

“I'll tell you that when you tell me when you became a pre-teen spymistress/criminal mastermind.”

“Touche. Anyway, good plan except for one detail: you're going to be asking me to burn spoons at a _way_ faster rate than I usually do. I'm going to need something to supercharge me if you want this plan to work.”

“Why not try some of my Fresa Fiesta?” Mina offered. “It's guaranteed to pick you up using only all-natural ingredients, no caffeine, preservatives, or chemicals added!” She said as she poured Valerie a glass of it.

Valerie looked at the cheerful, orange-pink juice, and shrugged. “Eh, what's the harm? Probably time I figure out what the big deal is, anyway...” She took the glass, and took a sip from it.

Mina smiled. Then Valerie froze, except for her pupils slowly dilating, and the smile disappeared.

“… Is this normal for her…?”

Valerie started vibrating, the juice in her glass sloshing about like a sea in the middle of a storm. “I CAN DO ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING!” She cried.

Tiana sighed. “Wrong question—she was never normal to be begin with.”


	54. Chapter 54

Valerie and Neala's weekly fight had been canceled to make way for their training, much to their regular crowd's disappointment. (However, they were happy to hear that there was going to be an even bigger brawl to watch soon.)

Now, for the first time in years, Neala and Tiana were the ones facing off in the ring, no spectators watching and betting, with Valerie passed out on a nearby bench with several empty bottles of Fresa Fiesta close by.

The two of them wore padded helmets, but that was about the only safety measure they were taking; the gloves were off, their hands and feet were just bandaged up, and all the rules of fair fighting and boxing they had been drilled with were to be thrown out the window for the match.

“Never thought we'd ever spar again, sis,” Neala said as she raised her fists.

“Save the sentimentality for later.” Tiana replied as she did the same. “And don't think I'm going to go start going easy on you now, N'ala.”

“I wouldn't expect anything less, sis.” Neala replied, before she charged in, aiming a powerful straight jab at Tiana's chest.

* * *

Six-year-old Tiana hit the wall of the pristine bathroom, clutching her chest in pain, confusion and terror look in her eyes.

Above her, Christina and her lackeys loomed over her, a terrifying sight in plaid skirts, blue ribbons, and white blouses. Over at the door, another of her cronies held it shut, keeping Neala from being able to do anything but bang on the other side.

“You listen to me, _princess_ ,” Christina said with disturbing calm. “I don't care _who_ you think you are, or who your parents are—you don't just walk into _my_ school and act like you own the place. There are _rules_ to be followed, girly, and one of the most important ones is that you do _not_ just ignore me.”

Tiana sniffed, tears welling in her eyes. “I-I'm not scared of you...”

Christina chuckled, slowly reaching down and grabbing Tiana by the collar of her blouse. “Not scared of me, hmm?” She jerked Tiana up, warping the fabric and dragging her against the wall. Her cronies laughed and leered as she uselessly flailed her legs, and frantically tried to wrench Christina's much larger hands from her.

“Are you scared of me now...?” Christina purred.

Tiana whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What's going on here?!” A teacher's voice called out from outside. The barred door rattled and shook. “Girls, open this door, right now!”

Christina scowled. She dropped Tiana while one of her lackeys opened a nearby stall. “Hide in there. You tell on me there will be even _worse_ consequences, you hear me?” She said with her usual cool.

Left without a choice, Tiana obeyed.

The door flew open the moment Christina's lackey stopped holding it down. All of them feigned innocent, surprised expressions as if they were just taking their sweet time fixing their make-up and chatting there. In the doorway, Neala's face turned to confusion, while the teacher's just curled in familiar look of resignation.

“Shouldn't you all be in class?” The teacher asked, defeated.

Christina and her minions casually and confidently sauntered out of the bathroom, not even bothering to acknowledge the teacher or Neala with even a glance. Neala glared at her, before she turned to the teacher with a look of hope.

They couldn't look her in the eyes. “I'm sorry, I can't help.”

Neala's face slowly fell as a little part of her died that day.

* * *

“No evidence?!” Mrs. Harris screamed over the phone. “I'll show you _evidence!_ I'll show you plenty of pictures of evidence, and don't you tell me there isn't a soul in the school that didn't see my little Tia bunny all messed up!

“I enrolled my kids in your school with certain expectations! Expectations that you'll live up to your grand reputation, that they'll get a quality education, and that they'll be safe from the little psychopaths of the world!

“NO I WILL NOT CALM DOWN!”

Elsewhere in, their shared bedroom, Tiana lay on her side, her favourite plush toys protectively set up like a wall around her. Her puffy and red eyes were closed, having cried herself to exhaustion in the car ride earlier. Just inside the border of blueberry dragons, cotton candy pink unicorns, and caramel cream snakes was Neala, wide awake and alert for danger.

She looked up and started as the door opened. Unintelligible, high pitched shrieking filtered in from the outside as Mr. Harris came in and shut the door behind him as quickly as he could. Father and daughter looked at each other.

“Papa.” Neala said.

“Neala.” Mr. Harris said. “Can we talk?”

Neala cast a look at Tiana—still asleep, and would probably be for several hours yet. She carefully put aside a few members of the plushie wall that guarded her, crawled out of the breach, and put them back in before she hopped off and to the tea table on one corner.

Neala sat down just fine on the tiny pink plastic chairs that came with the set, her father crossed and compacted his massive legs beneath him and on the floor. He towered above the miniature furniture and his daughter, but Neala was used to looking very high up.

“Back then, when I was a kid, we had bullies everywhere, not just in school—and they were mean. Very, _very_ mean, meaner than whoever did this to Tiana. They didn't just stop at stealing our money, calling us names, and leaving mean notes in our lockers.

Neala frowned. “What did they do?”

“I'll tell you when you're older.” Mr. Harris said. “My point is, it was a bad time for myself, and everyone I loved, and I felt helpless. Weak. Like there was absolutely nothing I could to help, just watch as my friends got bullied and help pick them back up when they finally left us alone.

“So I learned how to fight. I went to a boxing gym in my neighbourhood, then I begged the coach there to teach me. I didn't have any money on me. I couldn't even pay him even a portion of the asking price for lessons. I thought he was going to say no and kick me out, but instead, he asked me a single question:

“'Boy, if I teach you how to fight, what'ya gonna use it for?'

“'To protect my family and friends.' I said.

“He nodded, looked me in the eyes, and said, 'Boy, before I teach you anything, you've got to promise me something. You've gotta promise me that you'll never go looking for trouble, that you're never going to throw the first punch in any fight, and that you're always going to stop when the other guy quits or they can't fight no more, no exceptions.'

“I said yes, and the next day, he taught me how to box. Took me from being a rookie that could get punched out in one hit, and stayed with me long after I became Sammy the Sandman.

“Chuck's… gone now, but I still kept my promise to him.”

“But what about your old job?” Neala asked. “Fighting other people?”

Mr. Harris smiled. “It was the exception: I could go on the offensive if it meant I could earn money to help myself and my family. It's why I quit as soon as we had enough to raise you and your sister the way myself and your mama wanted to, Neala.”

Neala nodded.

“I'm going to ask you now, Neala: do you want to protect your sister?” Mr. Harris asked.

Neala nodded without a moment's hesitation.

“I'm going to teach you how, but first, you're going to have to promise me something: after you learn, you'll never go looking for trouble, you're always going to stop when the people you're fighting surrender or can't fight anymore, and you're always, always, _always_ going to fight to defend yourself or the people you love.

“Can you promise me that, Neala?”

Neala put on her most serious face. “I promise.”

Mr. Harris smiled. “We'll start at the gym tomorrow. Don't worry about school; you and your sister don't have to go back unless you want to.”

* * *

Tiana demanded to join in the lessons as soon as she caught wind that Neala was taking them, her reason being: “I want to defend her, too!”

Tiana made the same promise as Neala, breezed through the basics and quickly caught up to her in terms of knowledge of the rules and techniques, but what immediately became clear to everyone, it was that they might have been identical twins but they were _far_ from equally matched.

Neala winced as Tiana staggered back from the force of her uppercut, her arms flailing as she struggled to balance herself, the ropes behind her seemingly the only thing from keeping her upright. Mr. Harris quickly stepped in and pulled her back before she could slip through the gaps and fall off the ring.

“You okay, Tia?” Neala yelled.

Tiana groaned. “I'll be fine!” She yelled back.

Mr. Harris frowned. “Sparring's over, girls; rehydrate, rest, then hit the showers.”

Tiana let out a mildly pained whine of disappointment, Neala happily obeyed.

The two of them sat down together, toweling themselves off and drinking out of their water bottles. Their equipment was taken off and laid down nearby—an identical set except for colour, pink for Tiana, purple for Neala.

Tiana let out a happy sigh as she lowered her bottle. “Man, N'ala, I can't wait to get back to school and see Christina's face after you beat her up...”

Neala choked on her water. “What...?!”

“Well, I'm not the one that inherited papa's skills, right?” Tiana replied, smiling.

Neala frowned. “I'm not beating Christina up, Tia.”

Tiana spluttered. “What? But you promised you'd protect me!”

“I did, and I will. But I also promised papa I wouldn't throw the first punch or go looking for trouble.”

Tiana steadily turned red. “Were you not there when Christina and her cronies locked me in the bathroom and beat me up?! I'd call that a first punch, wouldn't you?!”

Mr. Harris poked his head out from the class he was having some distance away. “Something wrong, girls?”

“Nothing!” They chorused, putting on innocent faces until their father ducked back, clueless.

“It's what you call a first punch, but not what I'd call one.” Neala replied coolly.

“Hmph.” Tiana crossed her arms. “Fine. But just so you know? If there's some _super_ bully that comes along and beats _you_ up, I'm going to be handing their butt to you on a silver platter even before you even have time to get back up!”

“I'd appreciate more your picking me up and getting me patched up first, sis,” Neala replied.

Tiana fumed and said nothing.

* * *

“We can still turn around and go home if you want to, girls.” Mrs. Harris said as she dropped them off at the side of their school. “You don't have to go back today—there's always tomorrow!”

“No thanks, mama!” Tiana said. “Neala said she's ready to go back, and I promised I'd be right beside her when she did!”

“I _also_ said I'd be happy to come back when you're ready, too,” Neala added flatly.

“And I'm telling you now, I'm ready when you're ready, sis!” Tiana replied.

Neala quietly sighed and resigned herself to defeat. The two of them bid their mother farewell and walked back up the steps to school. The other girls were surprised to see them back after their unofficial vacation, many of them whispering urgently and eagerly to one another, but Tiana was unaffected, marching as proudly through the halls as always did, Neala quietly trailing after her.

They didn't even get back to their homeroom when Christina and her goons cornered them again in an empty hallway. “Well, well, well! Look who's back!” Christina hummed. “I hope you've learned to pay your respects where you should, princess.”

“Actually, I've learned something different.” Tiana replied as she raised her fists.

Christina raised an eyebrow, before she laughed. “Oh, so you learned how to fight, huh?” She and her cronies quickly surrounded Tiana, evil looks on their faces as they loomed well above her. “Well then let's see how well you learned how to fight, _princess._ ”

Tiana's brave face faded as the thugs descended on her, four to one.

What happened next, no one could say exactly, as the security cameras mysteriously “malfunctioned,” the footage from the halls had gone missing or was deemed inconclusive or completely coincidental, and none of the other girls in the halls that day would admit to anything. All they knew for certain was the sight that awaited the teachers when they rounded the corner:

Christina on her back, crying and whimpering in pain, her fingers covering her mouth, with blood trickling down from them, and Neala and Tiana standing by with their faces fallen in horror.

Of all the bullies in the world, Neala had punched the one with a glass jaw.

* * *

The administration swooped down on the incident, but the rumour mill was already on the ground. If no one was really sure of what had happened in the halls that day when it happened, then everyone knew their own wildly blown up, badly mangled, and extremely artistically liberal version of it in the days that followed.

The trial was long and drawn out, made quite memorable by Mrs. Harris frequent appearances (and eventual banning) from school grounds to protest her daughters' innocence, but the verdict eventually boiled down to this:

With no solid evidence to convict Christina of ever having been the scourge of whole school or even having seriously bullied Tiana, and Neala having confessed to being the one to accidentally break her jaw, Neala was expelled for assaulting and injuring another student.

“You didn't have to quit school, Tia,” Neala said the day after her expulsion was made official. “I'm the one that got in big trouble, not you.”

“Well, I'm not going back to that place so long as they won't let my sister come with me!” Tiana shot back as she climbed onto the old couch with her. “Besides, I can totally watch cartoons with you all day in protest—mama told me!” She smiled.

Neala didn't smile back. “This is serious, Tia.”

“And I'm serious too, N'ala.” Tiana snapped. Her face softened. “We're twins. We do _everything_ together.”

“Not anymore we're not...” Neala mumbled.

“Ugh, you let yourself get too down by the grown-ups! This calls for some serious cartoon therapy, stat! Nurse VeeVee, get me season 4, episode 6 of the Dimension Girls, stat!”

“Now loading, Dimension Girls Season 4, Episode 6: Battle of the Gloom Blooms.” Their TV chimed.

“As your sister and your doctor, I'm ordering you to take a whole-day cartoon marathon, absolutely no sadness or seriousness whatsoever!” Tiana said as she made herself comfortable on their couch.

Neala smiled. “Whatever you say, Dr. Tiana.”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the seriousness was only getting even more serious.

“This is ridiculous!” Mrs. Harris cried as she angrily shut her laptop. “Whoever this Christina's grandmother is an evil hag who just enjoys making good people suffer for no good reason!”

“Now, sweetie pie, I'm sure she's a nice old lady, and she's got nothing to do with this...”

“Then how do you explain every single private school under the sun saying they won't even let our little N'ala bunny set foot on their lawns?! That crone pulled strings and pulled favours from all her school board friends to get her banned, I just know it!”

“To be fair, breaking another student's jaw _is_ a serious offense.”

“Well it's not like that she didn't have it coming...” She grumbled.

“Let's just focus on our daughters' education, alright?”

“Alright. Any more of this expulsion business and I think I might just snap and do something drastic...”

Having been in a committed relationship with her for several years, Mr. Harris said nothing. “The boarding schools are still willing to take them.”

Mrs. Harris sighed. “Well, all well and good for them, but I just don't think I can live more than a day without seein' my little bunnies...”

“We can look for a tutor or homeschool them, then.”

“And make them miss out on a huge part of their childhoods? Nuh-uh, not doing it!”

“Well then that just leaves public school.”

“And what's _wrong_ with public school? We both turned out just fine.”

“And that was because we both found someone _outside_ of the school to help us grow up into good people. I remember my school days very clear, Anyah, and they were _not_ nice.”

“And you forget this is Middleburg, not Detroit! We didn't just move her because this was nicer than our old place, Sammy.” Mrs. Harris smiled.

Mr. Harris frowned. “Still, public school...”

Mrs. Harris laughed. “What, you think the schools here are going to be some sort of dangerous, crime-infested hives of vice and violence?”

Mr. Harris sighed. “I suppose you're right. We'll still let the girls decide in the end, won't we?”

“I'm offended you even had to ask! Now come on, no time like the present, let's go!” She stood up from her chair.

Mrs. Harris stopped as she heard her daughters laughing, the hum of the TV floating in from the living room. She sat back down. “Or you know what, maybe we can do this tomorrow, just let them be just kids for a while.”

“I won't argue with that.”


	55. Chapter 55

“Use just your legs this time, pipsqueak,” Tiana said as she and Valerie faced off in the ring. “No punches, no hand strikes, just kicks and whatever else you can do with your crazy noodle legs, alright?”

“What, want to give yourself a bit more of a fighting chance this time, Tiana?” Valerie replied as she started performing the Capoeira _ginga—_ moving back and forth on a small spot, swinging her arms and legs in constant, fluid motion. “Why don't you throw in a weapon, while you're at it?”

“Oh, and I'm sure your mommy will _love_ hear about the time I came after you with a baseball bat,” Tiana spat. “Get serious, pipsqueak: I don't know whatever it is the Dogs are going to throw at you and my sister, but it's best to be prepared on as many fronts as we can.

“Now come at me!”

From the side, Neala watched as Tiana and Valerie fought, one a giant, lumbering brute using her massive arms and superior strength to try and knock her opponent out with powerful blows or grab her and wrestle her into the ground, the other a speedy, agile blur that seemed to be playing with her more than fighting her as she effortlessly dodged and danced around her opponent's every attack.

If their father had been around to see Tiana devolve from the swift, decisive boxing he had trained her in to the haphazard professional wrestling/street brawling style she had now, he'd sigh and shake his head, at the very least.

And as she watched Valerie launch off the ground with her hands, wrap her legs around Tiana's neck, and effortlessly take her with her as she fell back down to the ground, she had to wonder exactly _what_ her mother had been teaching her all those years back.

She and Sinclair had to cringe as Tiana hit the canvas with a thunderous crash. Disoriented from the fall, she tried to push herself back up but not before Valerie wrapped her thighs around her head tighter put her into a choke hold.

Sinclair whistled. “Pretty sure no one's gonna be demandin' refunds if Val here can pull off even half of these moves at the actual fight, I'll tell you that.”

“Definitely.” Neala paused. “Wait, 'refunds'? Are you selling _tickets_ to this?”

Sinclair raised her hands. “Don't blame me! The Junkyard Dogs are demanding 'compensation' for the use of their facilities. And besides, people'll probably be throwin' their money for a chance to even _know_ about this fracas, might as well have it goin' to the source y'all trust!”

Neala slowly shook her head. “I don't know what bothers me more: that you're making money from a gang war, or that I'm not going to do anything to stop you.”

“Quite the contrast from our rocky first years, that's for sure.”

“Things change.” Neala said as she watched Valerie and Tiana tangle in the ring.

* * *

The Harris sisters stared at the side of Middleburg Elementary, marveling at how everything was so different from their old school. The two had been pretty happy to learn that unlike last time, they didn't need to wear uniforms and could wear what they wanted, but now, they weren't so sure that it was enough of a perk to outweigh the negatives.

The addition of boys, they could have dealt with. But the aged, sometimes outright decaying look of the building and its surroundings compared to the pristine, green, and clean campus of their old school made them have second thoughts. And this wasn't even going into how much more obvious and dangerous looking the bullies and thugs were making themselves, and how many more there seemed to be here…

“You can always go back, girls,” Mrs. Harris said as she waited in their car. The other parents and guardians in the drop-off line honked, she put her head out the window and yelled, “EXCUSE ME! I AM HAVING A _MOMENT_ WITH MY DAUGHTERS RIGHT NOW, SO YOU JUST SIT THERE AND WAIT PATIENTLY LIKE YOU TELL YOUR OWN KIDS TO!” before turning back to the twins with that warm, loving expression back on her face.

Tiana shook off her fear and apprehension and put on a determined face. “No way! We spent all night deciding on what we're wearing today, I'm not going to go home now! N'ala?”

Neala shrugged. “I'm ready if you are, sis.”

“Then it's settled then! We're going in!” Tiana declared.

Mrs. Harris sniffed. “That's my bunnies! Oh, just do your mama one more favour and turn around for a picture, alright?” She said as she undid her seatbelt and rushed over to them.

Neala and Tiana looked at each other, at the line of cars that was already illegally parking in creative ways to get around their mother, then shrugged. The two of them posed and smiled as Mrs. Harris whipped out her phone. The both of them stood side-by-side for the shot, smiles on their faces, and one arm resting on the other's shoulders.

Mrs. Harris sniffed. “Oh, I'll get this printed right and framed away!” She knelt down and gave them one last hug. “I love you two both so much!”

Neala and Tiana beamed. “We love you too, mama.” They chorused.

Mrs. Harris finally got back into her car and drove away, much to the relief of the rest of the parents dropping their kids off. Neala and Tiana weren't so happy to see her go, especially as they turned around and realized they were completely on their own now.

“You still ready, Tia?” Neala asked as she held out her hand.

“ _So_ ready, N'ala.” Tiana replied as she took it.

Hand-in-hand, the two of them walked into their school and to homeroom. Just before they made it, they were stopped by two older boys who looked none too friendly.

“Hey. New girls. Give me all your lunch money.” The stronger one said, while his buddy leered and looked sleazy with his back to the lockers.

Tiana scowled at them both. “How about we _keep_ our lunch money, and you two leave us alone?”

Their extortioner scowled and stepped closer. “Yeah, you're gonna pay extra for that big mouth of yours—better hope your parents are loaded.”

Neala scowled as she stepped up to him. “I'm only going to tell you once: leave us alone, or there's going to be trouble.”

The boys laughed. “Trouble, huh?” The extortioner said. “Alright, girly, I'll tell you what: since you made me laugh, you get one free shot on the Rick-meister here, on the house!” He said as he bent forward, his jaw exposed. “Better make it a good one—it'll be your _last_ , too.”

Neala and Tiana looked at each other.

“Does this count as a first punch?” Neala asked.

“I'd say so,” Tiana replied.

_Crack._

“The Rick-meister” fell back onto the lockers, clutching his jaw and cursing up a storm. His friend doubled-over with laughter. “Oh, man! Dude, you just got _creamed_ by a little girl! Never mind the points you just lost, man, _no one's_ ever going to let you forget about _this_!”

Rick glared at his friend then at the backs of Tiana and Neala—the two had taken the opportunity to walk away unscathed. They didn't get very far before they were stopped by someone once more—this time, a harmless and just a little too friendly looking girl their age.

“Whoever you are, we're not giving you your money, so scram.” Tiana growled.

“Oh, I'm not here to ask you for money—right now, at least.” She said as she extended her hand. “The name's Sinclair, and you could say I help keep things peaceful and everybody in this school happy—well, _almost_ everyone, at least.”

Neala and Tiana shared a look. “I don't like where this is going.” One silently said to the other.

“I don't blame y'all for bein' suspicious—in fact, I'd say y'all are rightly so! But just here me out for a moment?”

“Make it quick,” Tiana snapped, “I'm not gonna be late on my first day for this.”

“I couldn't help but notice that you two have unfortunately met the more unsavoury element in this school—and that the both of you seem perfectly capable of handlin' yourselves! What I'd like to offer is this: I hire you two—for cash, credit, or favours—to help guard my investments, contribute to the peace of this school.”

“We're not mercenaries for hire, take your money and scram.” Tiana replied.

Sinclair frowned. “I was afraid you'd say that, but I respect your decision anyway. Before I leave, however, take these,” she reached into her pocket and handed over a series of neatly printed cards. “My associates, and certain other associations y'all might be interested in joinin', if'n you want to make things easier for y'all here in good ole Middleburg Elementary.”

Sinclair smiled. “You can never make too many friends around these parts, I'll tell you that!” She said before she sauntered away to her own class.

“Geeze Louise, what a sleaze.” Tiana said as she balled up the papers and shoved it into her pockets. “I'm surprised these aren't soaked.”

“You sound almost disappointed.” Neala joked. “We _really_ might want to make some friends here, though.”

Tiana scoffed. “Eh, who needs friends, N'ala? We're twins—got the best friend you could ever want, and more, since birth!” She smiled lovingly. “I'm gonna have your back like you have mine, N'ala, and I swear, nothing in this school is going to tear us apart.

“I promise.”

“I love you, Tia.”

“I love you too, N'ala.”

The bell rang.

Tiana sighed. “Well, c'mon, let's get to class; sucks they couldn't lump is in the same schedule.”

“We won't be apart for long.” Neala countered. “See you at lunch, sis?”

“You know it!”

The two of them hugged each other goodbye, before they went their separate ways, to two different classrooms on opposite ends of the hall.

* * *

As Neala would quickly learn, making friends wouldn't be very easy for her.

The clubs that had her non-athletic interests—cartoons, toys, and books—all met and discussed online for sake of convenience and safety, having been a target of bullies and pranks too often, along with one too many valuable DVDs, signed paperbacks, or collector's toys having been stolen, used as a very expensive frisbee or wall decoration, or done unspeakable things to.

The Boxing Club saw her less as a fellow athlete and friend and more as a rival and a hurdle, someone to knock off the ladder on their quest for the very top—especially after Neala knocked them all down several pegs during the impromptu tournament that had sprung up during tryouts.

It didn't help that she was one of the few girls that were around, and for the boys, chumming up with the girl they had always, consistently, _brutally_ lost to wasn't exactly the first thing on their mind.

The rest of the groups for outcasts and social misfits would have loved to have her, if only there wasn't one incredibly big problem:

Tiana.

“It's all a matter of safety, you see,” Lady Abraxus of the Keepers of the Fringe put it. “Unlike in our valiant adventures across the dimensions and into great peril for unfathomable rewards and glory, the fear of a mole or a traitor in our ranks is not quite as fun OOC, nor is it very good for our RL health.

“Fret not, dear friend: once we are certain that your sister Tiana no longer associates so closely with that band of ruffians, rabble rousers, and raiders whom I shall not waste my breath naming, you shall be welcome into our ranks as either our newest initiate or as a witness to our great adventures.”

And that left the one group that would have happily had her, but was the one she wanted to avoid at all costs:

The Players.

“Come on, Neala: we've seen what you can do!” One of the members trying to recruit her said. “You'll fit right in with us, believe me—and if you're worried about Rick, don't worry, he knows better than to mess with you or your sister twice.”

“No thanks.” She'd replied.

She still hadn't known about their less than stellar reputation then, but the that they wanted her simply because she could beat up kids older, larger, and stronger than herself set off serious alarm bells.

Tiana hadn't felt the same, as she joined almost as soon as they finished their recruitment spiel, before happily walking off without Neala—wherever they met-up, non-members weren't allowed.

“What do they do, anyway?” Neala asked later, after school and in the safety of their room.

“Eh, they're just kids that have fun playing the Game—we go out, we do all sorts of things for points, then we tally up who wins at the end of the month.” Tiana replied.

“Things like what?”

“Snatching a teacher's stuff while they're not looking, tagging the walls, playing pranks on people...”

Neala frowned. “You'll get in trouble for those.”

Tiana smiled. “Only if we get caught. Look, if it makes you feel better, I won't do anything that'll get me in _really_ big trouble—just harmless stuff.”

Neala still didn't join, and Tiana stayed a member. Though their parents disapproved of her friends and constantly pulled her aside to talk to her about the less than reputable and not-so-well mannered kids she was running with, Neala ignored the uneasy feelings and the urges to make up excuses to keep Tiana from meeting them—it was the first time Tiana had ever made friends as close as she had with them, and she always seemed so happy running with them.

So what if it meant that many days, she went home alone? That she watched their shows with them at their places, not at home with Neala? That she was starting to sit with them at lunch, and Neala was forced to stay at a nearby table some table away as a non-member?

She figured that if Tiana was friends with them, they couldn't be that bad… until one day, she found out she was so very wrong.

“Neala Harris?” A boy said, someone she hadn't met nor recognized from any of her classes.

“Yes…?” Neala replied carefully.

“Sinclair sent me. Your sister Tiana bought a lot of serious hardware from her recently, and she still hasn't paid up her bill; Sinclair wants to add that she”--he pulled out a slip of paper from his pocket--”'hadn't gone through all that trouble getting those because we're chums.'” He read.

Neala frowned. “Serious hardware? Like what?”

The messenger sighed. “Look, Sinclair just hires me to send the messages, not keep tabs on whatever it is her clients are doing; can you just sign this?” He asked as he pulled out a clipboard with attached pen.

Neala kept on frowning. “I'll find her.” She said as she signed it.

The messenger smiled. “Thanks, you're a peach.” He said before he left.

Neala could have sent a text, but there was something that told her she was better off telling Tiana face to face.

She wouldn't answer her texts asking her where she was, so she explored all her usual haunts until she found her hiding just around the corner from a row of lockers, her phone up and the camera ready to record at any moment.

“Tiana--”

“Shh, you'll blow my cover!” Tiana snapped. “Can it wait? It won't be long, I promise.”

Neala waited nearby. She had a bad feeling about whatever it was that was going to happen, but didn't know what it was or what she could do to stop it.

Shortly after, a familiar face walked over to one of the lockers along with a group of other kids about his age—Rick, she realized, along with other Players. He went up to his locker, opening it from muscle memory alone while he was busy chatting with his friends.

He didn't even feel the Super Soaker trap spraying water all over his pants until his friends started bursting out in laughter.

Rick screamed in surprise and anger. Tiana joined in the laughter as she popped out of cover as she caught the whole thing on video. “How's that for a 'newbie that won't last a month,' huh?” She taunted, a vicious grin spreading out on her face.

Neala watched on in horror as Rick tried and failed to soak up the stain, only managing to spread it even more. His “friends” doubled over with and started howling to the whole school about how “the Rick-meister” had wet himself, before Rick fled the scene with his head down, angry, betrayed, and hurt.

Tiana sighed happily as she ended recording. “Priceless...” She said as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Well, N'ala, you wanted to say something?”

Neala just stared blankly at her in shock.

Tiana frowned. “What? That was just part of the Game, he'll get over it. Now what did you want to tell me?”

Neala slowly took in a breath, and let it go. “I changed my mind. I'll tell you when we get home.”

* * *

“That they do...” Sinclair hummed. “Anyway, can I borrow you for a few? I'm tryin' to get some promotional material for the fight.”

“Later,” Neala replied. “I have to make sure these two don't end up accidentally killing each other.”

They watched as Tiana wrenched Valerie's legs off her neck, grabbed clumps of her pant legs, and managed to pull them straight off. Undaunted and unembarrassed, Valerie just took the opportunity to put her back into a choke hold again, naked from the waist down except for her underwear.

Neala blushed, her mouth falling open in embarrassment and horror.

Sinclair whistled. “Well, at least that answers _that_ mystery...”


	56. Chapter 56

The sparring match between Valerie and Tiana was broken up, Valerie's stolen pants were returned and put back where they belonged, and the two agreed to postpone the sparring match long enough for Sinclair to get some pictures of the both of them.

“Hurry it up,” Tiana grumbled. “I'm kind of busy making sure their faces are going to be arranged that way before _and_ after the fight.”

“I will—updatin' profile pictures is time and effort best spent somewhere else.” Sinclair said.

Tiana unamused face grew more so, and Sinclair sped up her pace as she led them to a sunny corner with the ring still in the background. “Alright, you two, just gonna need three shots: the both of you lookin' fierce for the camera, then the both of you doin' it together.” Sinclair explained as she pulled out her phone. “Who's first?”

“I'll do it!” Valerie chirped as she took on a fighting stance and put on her most intimidating look: eyes narrowed, shadow falling over her head, and a vicious, bloodthirsty grin to complete the look.

“Fierce!” Sinclair said as she snapped a series of shots. “If I didn't know y'all were on my side, I'd be more than a little concerned right now! Can y'all make your hair do that thing where it glows? It'll look _great._ ”

“That's not how it works, Sinclair, sorry.”

“Oh well—that's what Photoshop is for, I suppose! Alright, N'ala, you're up!”

Valerie playfully bowed and gestured to spot she was standing in as she and Neala traded places. Neala smiled and shook her head, before she raised her fists and put on her own intimidating look.

“Can y'all make it a little more fierce, N'ala? I'm just not gettin' as much of a heebie-jeebie factor as I'd like.”

Neala tried, but the result just ended up looking awkward and forced.

“No, that's not workin' either… could you make it like you're punching at me? Don't _actually_ do it, though, I kinda like my face and my phone as two separate things...”

“Just look at the camera and make your face as neutral as possible, then glare a little bit,” Sashi said as she walked up on the impromptu shoot. “She'll look scarier than any face you could ever pull, trust me.”

The trio resisted the urge to panic or jump out of their skins. Instead, they calmly took Sashi's advice, going on as if nothing was wrong.

“Oh my,” Sinclair said as she swiped through results. “Great advice, Mrs. Kobayashi—thanks!”

“You're welcome, girls. What are you doing, if you don't mind me asking…?” Sashi looked expectantly at them in turn.

“Just getting some material for a proposal, Mrs. Kobayashi,” Sinclair lied with practiced ease and confidence. “I thought it might be good for the gym to go put out some advertising about the kinds of fighters they put out, see why they might want to take this over all the others.”

“Want to be part of it, mommy?” Valerie asked. “You'll look super cool on a poster, I just know it!”

Sashi blinked and smiled. “Well, I suppose it wouldn't—no, actually, sorry girls, but can I just borrow Neala here for a while? I need to talk to her— _alone.”_

“Just let me get a quick shot of them together! Just so you know, Tiana wants Val here back for more sparring soon.”

“Well tell her it's important and _really_ urgent.”

“We will,” Valerie said, giving Neala a brief, silent “Good luck.”

The trio finished their little shoot, Valerie and Sinclair walked off, while Sashi led Neala much away to a calm, quiet corner.

“Has Valerie gotten herself into any kind of trouble?” Sashi asked.

“What kind of trouble?” Neala asked with fake innocence.

“I'm talking _trouble_ , trouble, Trouble with a capital T, trouble that people have a tendency of hiding from the people they should be telling about it before it's all too late...” Sashi explained, more worried than anything else. “I've been getting these weird premonitions that Valerie's in danger lately, and they're only getting stronger and stronger with each day...”

“Might just be her sparring with Tiana, Mrs. Kobayashi.”

“That's just it: these started long before that. Penn tells me it's nothing—that I should let Valerie have some 'independence' and let her solve her own problems, and that if it was _that_ serious, she'd tell us—but I'm having my doubts.

“So is she in trouble? I won't get mad, I promise.”

“No, Mrs. Kobayashi, Valerie's not in any trouble.” Neala lied so convincingly it surprised her.

The worry on Sashi's face barely changed. “Good. I… do you think I'm just being paranoid? I mean, I've been keeping myself from trying to find out, but now that you three are suddenly training so hard...” She trailed off, then shook her head. “I just… I've been watching over her for so long, it's just… hard that I suddenly _have_ to _stop_ doing it...”

Neala nodded, kept herself from saying anything that might be even the slightest bit incriminating, and patted Sashi on the arm.

Sashi sighed. “I'm sorry you had to hear me ramble like that, Neala.”

“It's fine, Mrs. Kobayashi, I understand.”

Sashi nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. “Well, I suppose I'll just let you go back to watching your sister and your best friend beat the living daylights out of each other.”

“I'll make sure they don't send themselves to the hospital.”

Sashi cringed. “… Thanks. You know, Neala? You're one of the good ones; I know Valereie's safe so long as you're around.”

Neala tried not to show anything that might lead to Sashi realizing she had been very, very, _very_ wrong to place that much trust in her.

“I wish she just kept sparring with you. I'm sorry, but I keep thinking that your sister will take this as an opportunity to pull something on her, or _worse_.”

“She won't.” Neala replied.

“Was she really never _this_ bad before?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Sashi paused. “Makes you wonder what could change someone so much...” She mumbled as she left.

Neala knew, but she didn't say it.

* * *

The car ride home that fateful day was spent in loaded, pointed silence, the tension growing and growing, waiting until it was finally time to explode.

“Did something happen at school today, bunnies?” Mrs. Harris asked as she was stopped at a streetlight.

“Nothing.” The twins chorused, but that it was the opposite was clear.

Mrs. Harris frowned, but decided not to pry, figuring they'd tell her eventually.

The uneasy atmosphere only worsened as the twins made it back to their home, Neala marching straight back to their room without a word, only stopping to look expectantly at Tiana and silently beckon her to follow her before she entered.

“Something the matter, Tia?” Mrs. Harris asked.

“I'm going to find out...” Tiana replied as she marched after her.

Neala was waiting for her just inside the door, her bag tossed over to her side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest.

Tiana frowned as she removed her own backpack and tossed it over to her side. “You going to tell me what's up now, sis?”

“Close the door.” Neala replied.

Tiana did.

“Sinclair said you still owe her money for the 'serious hardware' you bought from her.” Neala said coolly.

Tiana blinked. “'Serious hardware'? But I already--” she scowled. “Oh, c'mon!”

Neala frowned. “What happened?”

“I'm _pretty sure_ Kiki didn't pay Sinclair like she said she would!”

“Who's Kiki?”

“A Player, and my friend— _provided_ she promises me she'll give me back my money tomorrow.” Tiana grumbled as she pulled out her phone to send off an angry text..

Neala blinked. “You mean she _stole_ your money?”

“She steals from everybody all the time,” Tiana replied calmly. “She's just lucky she always gives it back eventually. She says it's a 'condition,' but I just know she thinks it's fun.”

“Stop being friends with them.” Neala said.

Tiana stopped in the middle of typing an angry face on her phone. “What?”

“Stop being friends with the Players!” Neala repeated, louder this time.

“And why should I do that?” Tiana replied as she shoved her phone back into her pocket.

“Oh, I don't know: maybe it's because they've stolen from you—over and over again; they're just a bunch of bullies; and they're turning you into one, too?!”

Tiana scowled. “I already told to you, we're not bullies, we're--” She stopped. “Oh... I get it... you're just jealous, aren't you, Tia? Can't be happy now that I've got friends while you don't, is that your problem?”

Neala stared at her sister, angry and at a loss for words.

“MY PROBLEM!?!” Neala screamed back. “MY PROBLEM IS THAT THOSE 'FRIENDS' HAVE YOURS HAVE BRAINWASHED YOU! This isn't _you,_ sis! The Tiana I know isn't a bully, someone who terrorizes others for the sake of some stupid 'Game!'”

Tiana nodded slowly. “So it is because you're just jealous...”

Neala turned completely red, her shoulders tense, looking ready to erupt, before she suddenly turned incredibly, disturbingly calm. “Tiana—or whoever you are? Just so you know: _you're not my sister_ _anymore_ _.”_

Tiana blinked, her face falling in hurt, shock, and betrayal for a moment, before her lips curled into a scowl. _“Take it back...”_ _s_ he growled.

“How about I _don't_ …?” Neala calmly snapped back.

Tiana bristled and rushed over to their cabinet, snatching a framed picture off the top shelf—the photo of them side-by-side in front Middleburg Elementary on their first day together. She pulled it out and pinched the photograph with between her hands, right on the middle.

Neala looked on in horror.

“Take. It. Back.” Tiana growled.

“You wouldn't.”

_Shcrip_.

The photo ripped in two, a neat jagged line running straight down the middle and separating the two girls there.

“Too late. I already did.”

_Crack._

The halves fluttered down to the floor.

Neala blinked, her eyes widening in horror as she slowly realized what she had just done.

Tiana staggered back, her own eyes wide open in disbelief. Her cheek throbbed, an ugly bruise already forming.

“Tia--”

“ _Get out._ ”

“Tia I'm sorry--”

“GET OUT! GET OUT, _NOW!”_ Tiana screamed, tears welling in her eyes. “And whoever _you_ are? _YOU'RE NOT MY SISTER ANYMORE, EITHER!”_

Neala stood there, frozen. Then, she turned around, and fled from their room as quickly as she could, tears streaming down her cheeks.

That night, Tiana threw out everything Neala owned that wasn't too heavy or nailed down to the floor or the walls, barricaded the door to their room, and refused to open it no matter what their parents tried.

When it was clear that Tiana was not going budge, Neala moved into the previously unused bedroom right across. Her belongings had made it all out of unscathed, but the calm, dull blue of the walls and abundance of empty space kept it from feeling even remotely comfortable.

Her mother taped up pictures to help “liven it up!” Neala couldn't help but notice that all of them were exclusively photos of her and Tiana before their big split and that fateful day at their old school, but she didn't comment on it.

“There!” Mrs. Harris said as she put the last one up. “A lot better now, don't you think, N'ala?”

Neala looked at the photos that were occupying an otherwise completely bare and empty side of the bedroom, and forced herself to nod. “Yeah. Better.” She said.

Mrs. Harris frowned, sat beside her in bed and took her in her arms. “I'll admit I can't say it from personal experience, and your papa only ever had _younger_ siblings… but you and Tia? You'll make up eventually, N'ala; she just needs time right now.

“Who knows? Maybe tomorrow, she'll be forgive you and be begging to have you move right back in and!” She smiled.

Neala smiled back, if only a little. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Mrs. Harris leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Night, N'ala bunny. Oh, and one more thing before I go: I found this when me and your papa were getting your other stuff out of your room.”

She handed over a photo—or at least, a half of it: Tiana, standing in front of their school, Neala's beside her, their arms across the other's shoulders.

“I don't know where the other half's gone to—but I'm sure it'll turn up eventually!”

Neala held up the scrap and stared at it.

Mrs. Harris carefully stood up and made to leave. “I love you, Neala.” She said.

Neala didn't reply.

Later, when the lights were off, and she was sure her parents weren't going to come by to check up on her, she put took down the photos, rearranged them, and put the shredded photo in its own generous space in the center.

It couldn't help but look off, while it was missing the other half.

* * *

They rest of the days of training flew by without further incident, every single morning spent at the gym, working out and sparring with Tiana until they were certain they couldn't continue without risking someone getting too seriously hurt.

Outside of the gym, the hype about the fight grew exponentially, with both Silver and Sinclair forced to wrack themselves trying to figure out how to provide enough seating, adequate video coverage, and refreshments, restrooms for so many people—both to prevent them from demanding a refund, and to keep a different, much less entertaining brawl from erupting among the audience.

Somehow, despite the great buzz and the ever growing excitement for “The Biggest Brawl Middleburg Has Ever Seen,” none of their parents or the police ever caught wind of it, and no one was about to question it.

All preparations were done two before the event, from Mina's sudden mass production of more than enough Fresa Fiesta to supply the spectators and then some; to Silver's having to coordinate and rush the construction of so much additional seating and stage equipment; and Valerie's own plans to get her and her fellow Alley Cats to the Doghouse and back without ever earning a lick of suspicion from the authorities or more importantly their parents, and so on.

Training itself ended a day before, leaving the rest of time before the big event to pass painfully slowly for Neala. She tried to spend it reading and catching up on her cartoon backlog, but instead spent most of it looking for alerts from the others about some disastrous news, like the event getting leaked and busted, or some major accident that took Valerie out of commission, or the Junkyard Dogs betraying their agreement and launching a preemptive strike.

_Bang-bang!_

Neala tossed the book she was reading into the air. The door to her room was thrown open, just in time for Tiana to see it land on the floor with a dull thump.

The two sisters stared at each other.

“Hey.” Tiana said.

“Hey.” Neala replied.

Tiana shut the door behind her. “Look, N'ala? Don't fret about the fight: you're going to win, like you always do. Plus, you've got the radioactive teenage freak-of-nature on _your_ side.”

“You feel I'm ready?” Neala asked as she moved to sit on the edge of her bed.

“You and the pipsqueak better be, for all the bruises the both of you have given me.” Tiana grumbled.

Neala couldn't help but smile.

“Seriously, though, N'ala? I'm pretty sure those Junkyard Dogs are going to _**really**_ wish they hadn't picked on any of us. Hand as many of their butts back to them as you can for me, will you?”

Neala nodded. “I'll make sure you get a good seat right up on the front row.”

“Actually, I won't be there.”

Neala blinked.

Tiana looked away. “I've got this… thing, and I can't cancel it.”

Neala nodded. “So you came to tell me this in person?”

“Yeah, and I wanted to give you something.” Tiana replied. “It's stupid—call it a good luck charm or whatever, just… don't ever mention it to anyone. _Ever._ Alright?”

“Alright.” Neala replied.

Tiana took a deep breath, and sighed. “Close your eyes, and hold out your hands. No peeking, alright? I swear, if I catch you peeking, I'll--”

Neala smiled as she did just that. “You can blindfold me, too, if you really want to make sure, sis.”

Tiana paused. “Good. Don't open them again until I say you can, too!”

“I think that was already implied.” Neala replied.

She didn't need to see her sister to know she was scowling. Neala felt something light and papery get put into her palms, before she heard Tiana stomp off to the door and open it.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Tiana left, the door noisily shutting behind her.

Neala opened her eyes and looked at Tiana's gift. Looking back at her was her own face—her six-year old self, standing in front of Middleburg Elementary, Tiana's arm across her shoulders.

Her hands started shaking. She forced them to stop as she rushed to find some double-sided tape, then stopped before the photos on her wall. With all the care and attention usually reserved for religious artifacts sacred to millions, Tiana carefully reunited it with its pair.

She carefully pressed down on the faded and aged photo paper once, before she stepped back and looked at her handiwork.

Unlike the half Neala had kept all these years, Tiana's had gone through a lot of abuse, an accident with a beverage of some sort, and being crumpled into a ball at least once, if all the creases and the white fibers showing through the picture were to go by. However mangled or preserved the two different sides of the photo were, however, one thing was for sure:

They belonged together.


	57. Chapter 57

Friday evening.

All over Middleburg, teenagers told their parents they were going out with their friends; snuck out the door past sleeping or distracted parents, guardians, and pets; or made like action movie heroes and rappelled down from their bedroom windows by homemade rope, decoys safely snuggled up in their beds.

Valerie and the others were extremely lucky that both of her parents were at the Odyssey, unable able to be contacted by any of their neighbours or friends (or even physically present in that dimension), a gigantic mercy they were all keen to take advantage of by not wasting a single second of it. As soon as she was out of sight of her building, Valerie ducked into an alley and was quickly helped up into the back of a pick-up truck, the rust red dog graffiti on its side doors hastily and messily painted over with a different logo:

A cheerful, festive, and floral design advertising a drink called “Fresa Fiesta!”

Valerie ducked into a small cave that had been made out of the boxes there, before the driver quickly covered her and their cargo with a tarpaulin, hiding her from sight. After a quick check around the nearby streets, just to be sure, they calmly drove out, taking the scenic route to Hangman's Alley.

The truck stopped in front of the Doghouse at a specially reserved spot, the envy of many of the drivers of all the other cars parked all over the street and the next ones. The tarpaulin was thrown off, Valerie took an opportunity to take a deep breath of fresh air, before she pulled out her phone.

“The delivery's made it safe and sound.” Valerie said as soon as Sinclair answered.

“ _Excellent!”_ Sinclair replied. _“Any damage to report?”_

“Eh, it got jostled and bumped a bit because of all the potholes and speed bumps, but I'm sure it'll be fine.” Valerie replied, absently rubbing at a sore spot.

“ _Happy to hear it! Thanks for doing this Val, and remember: I'll call back soon, so go on and find out how the crowd likes 'em some Flora Fiesta for me!”_

“Will do, Sinclair.” Valerie replied, before she hung up and hopped off to the sidewalk and to a waiting posse of Alley Cats.

“Was all of that covert operation really necessary, Commander?” Bones asked as they started walking to the Doghouse.

“I'd rather not take the chance,” Valerie replied.

The group of Alley Cats cut their way through the thick crowds loitering outside on or trying to get in at the door, people parting for them or getting knocked away. In an actual fight, Valerie's bouncers would be useful only as bulky meat shields or distractions, but she only needed them to put distance between her and any would be saboteurs and look intimidating, and they were doing an excellent job of both.

“Your personal supply of Fresa Fiesta all ready for use at the ring, Commander!” Mina chirped as she walked past. “By the way: you couldn't have arrived at a better time, we are making a _killing_ selling to this thirsty crowd, and it isn't even show time yet!” She laughed merrily as she left the building.

The Cats entered the heart of Doghouse's lounge area, all of it furniture and almost all of its floorspace lousy with kids. Those that weren't killing time at the snack bar or the many other distractions there huddled around the TVs and a small handful of projectors, all playing footage of the Junkyard Dogs' other fights to whet their appetite for the main event. Many of them noticed Valerie, some getting up and pointing at her as the noise and the conversation erupted anew, but the bouncers glared them back into their seats or kept them from doing anything more than being a noisy nuisance.

Elise looked up at the ruckus Valerie was causing, and smiled when she saw the head of brown, curly hair bobbing several inches below everyone else. Graceful as can be, she slipped out of her seat at the snack bar and maneuvered her way through the crowds.

“Well aren't _you_ quite the celebrity tonight?” She purred as she joined the growing group.

“Elise!” Valerie cried. “You came! And looking _good,_ too!”

Elise blushed and chuckled. “I never aim for anything less.” She lowered her voice. “Got the pre-show jitters? Because I know a few techniques that'll work wonders, believe you me.”

“Not at all! The Dogs should be the ones quaking in their boots,” Valerie replied with a smug grin.

Elise grinned too. “Good—I didn't sign up to commentate on them beating _you_ up, after all.”

The Alley Cats exited to the alley separating the two buildings, lit up brightly and noisy just the from the chaos and activity pouring out from all directions. Valerie shielded her eyes as she came in through the gym's double doors; one of her bodyguards offered her their pair of shades, but she waved them off as her eyes adjusted, letting her see the now transformed Pit.

The Junkyard Dog's usual workout equipment had either been stashed under the seats or moved elsewhere, because almost all of the floor space had been taken up by freshly constructed bleachers, with just enough space for people and vendors to move up and down the aisles, numerous industrial fans and the one jury-rigged AC unit keeping the airflow going and the temperature cool.

A cage had been erected around the pit—to protect the fighters from the crowds, or to keep the fighters from escaping into the crowds, it wasn't clear. There was a raised platform with a patched-up and ragged red carpet path leading down to one side, and opposite it, a simple dug out with three benches, one of them stuffed mostly with boxes of Fresa Fiesta while a second had a very large first aid kit resting just under it. Remote controlled cameras on posts quietly whirred, recorded, and streamed footage of the arena to feeds and screens inside the Doghouse and beyond.

Above it all, Rex sat on her throne, looking over the scene with a calm, unnerving expression.

Bones shook their head. “This can't be compliant with fire code at _all..._ ”

“Knock on wood, Bones, it's a little too late for that.” Valerie replied with a grin.

The bodyguards took their positions at the sides or moved to the handful of specially reserved seats for the Alley Cats, while Elise left for the commentary box, effectively leaving Valerie to sit down with Neala in the dugout.

Valerie smiled at her. “Hey N'ala! Ready for the fight?”

Neala smiled back. “Depends: are you?” She asked as she put her book away.

Valerie laughed. “You know I am.”

The two of them silently shared good lucks, before they sat back and waited for the fight to begin.

The crowd grew more and more anxious and noisy as they counted down on their watches, phones, and the digitized clocks that had been set all over the arena. Slowly, the lights above started to shut off, until there was only the glow of phone screens and exit signs in the darkness. One unlucky vendor tripped and fell, but he got up quickly and said he was okay.

Then, a lone spotlight ignited over Rex. All voices turned hushed and all eyes turned to her as she stood up from her seat. One of her lackeys handed her a microphone.

“Are you ready to see some _blood?!”_ She roared.

The crowd erupted in noise once more, roaring, screaming, and cheering. Valerie ducked her head as popcorn, soda, and snacks came raining down from above. Neala was just glad their dugout was separate from the throngs of flailing bodies just behind her.

“Are you ready to see the Junkyard Dogs _tear it up_?!”

On cue, the Junkyard Dogs started woofing, growling, and howling, flooding the gym with their voices. Valerie clapped her hands over her ears. The few Alley Cats that had showed and their bouncers tried to hiss and yowl, but they were just too few nor was it as catchy to chant.

“Are you ready to see the Alley Cats get _chewed to pieces_?!”

The crowd kept on cheering. A lone Alley Cat cheered and wooped, before they realized what had actually been said and quietly sat back down.

Rex grinned as the lights above started turning back on.

“Then let's get this fight _started_!”

The crowd exploded once more. Rex contentedly sat back down on her throne. Rap and hip hop started booming from the speakers, deafening some unlucky teens, and the sound echoing in everyone's chests and rocking the walls and the bleachers. A series of lights started flashing on and off, a poor man's pyrotechnics show as having actual explosives and combustible materials was _seriously_ pushing their already lax compliance with fire code.

“Would you just listen to that crowd we've got tonight!” Silver said from the safety of the commentary box. “And this is _before_ the fighters have even stepped up to the ring! How much crazier will it get once the action starts for real?”

“Let's find out!” Elise chimed in. “I'm Diana of the Alley Cats!”

“And I'm Silver of the Junkyard Dogs, and we're here _live_ at the scene of the biggest gang war Hangman's Alley has seen since Rex destroyed or assimilated almost every all of her rivals two years ago!”

“A very fitting follow-up, this, as the winner of tonight's tournament will be taking home the greatest prize of all: complete, absolute control of the loser's gang!”

“You heard her right, folks: the stakes _can not_ go any higher, the tension is only mounting, and I'm pretty sure this crowd will explode if they don't see action soon!” Silver quickly knocked on a nearby patch of wood.

“Here's to hoping they can last long enough for the introductions.”

“Let's not tempt fate. On one side, the home team, the biggest gang operating out of Hangman's Alley and dare we say the entirety of Middleburg, and the meanest, strongest group of fighters around: THE JUNKYARD DOGS!”

“And on the other, the challengers, the new kids on the block, barely older than two weeks, but have already made their mark and changed the history of the Alley forever: THE ALLEY CATS!”

“There's no round robins or fancy tournament structures tonight, ladies and gentlemen: tonight is a straight up elimination. Two fighters enter, one fighter walks away, and the other gets carried off to make way for the next one!

“Our line-up for tonight is the Alley Cats' leader the Commander and her top lieutenant, Leona, vs the entirety of the Junkyard Dogs—from the lowliest minion, to their most elite warriors, and finally Rex herself!” Silver continued. “The Commander will be exclusively facing off one-on-one against the Dogs' toughest members, while Leona will be taking care of two of the rank and file in a row, an alternating 1-2-1 pattern unless either of the two Alley Cats are knocked out or Rex declares a change in structure.”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd think this was a _grossly_ unfair match-up.” Elise quipped.

“The Junkyard Dogs and many of those in the audience don't seem to think so, but no use in debating that we we can be using that time to find out! As the Dogs' first contender has specifically asked for a different introduction, we now bring you ringside, for a pre-fight interview with the Commander.”

“Any words before we start the slaughterfest, Commander?” A Junkyard Dog reporter with accompanying cameraman asked.

“I hope whoever it is you're serving up first is your best—wouldn't want to have the first round end in less than a minute, would we?” Valerie grinned as she stepped into the ring, a guard locking the cage behind her.

“Oooh, confident words from an equally confident fighter,” Silver said. “Well, the Commander certainly won't be disappointed, as the Junkyard Dogs have done just that! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the biggest, the strongest, and most certainly the _tallest_ Dog the Alley has ever seen:

“ _TIMBER!”_

The poor man's pyrotechnics show erupted all over the entire length of the Junkyard Dog's platform, before a long, _very_ large shadow fell across the ring, reaching well over to Valerie. The floor beneath him creaked as Timber stepped up, a human redwood with a thick, muscular chest, massive arms, and a red wooden baseball bat slung over his broad shoulders. He happily showboated for the crowd, grinning, flexing his arms and his pecs while he took his sweet time walking down to the ring.

Valerie was unimpressed, but almost all of the crowd was chanting for him--“TIMBER! TIMBER! TIMBER!”

That same reporter/cameraman duo from earlier went around to him just before he entered the cage. “Timberrr!” The reporter cried, one hand cupped around their mouth. “Anything you want to say to the Commander before your fight, or are you going to reserve the words for when you win?”

Timber pointed one ham-sized hand at Valerie, a bulky, solid finger pointing straight at her. “Your buddies better listen close, little girl, because they might not hear the sound of you going _down_.”

The Junkyard Dogs and the spectators cheered, while the Alley Cats said nothing, silently showing as much of their ire as they dared.

The fighters settled on their respective corners and eyed each other down—though in Valerie's case, it might have been said that she was eying _up_ instead. Rex looked at the two—the human redwood vs the stick girl—and smiled to herself.

“Before we begin, ladies and gentlemen, let's go over the rules of the Pit,” Silver said. “One, there is no surrender. Two, _are_ no other rules.”

An airhorn screeched through the air, just barely heard over the crowd going completely, absolutely wild.

“And they're off!” Silver cried. “Slow and steady to start things off, circling the other, watching their moves, figuring out the best plan of attack! No surprise here, folks, as with that serious height and weight difference between them, there is just no way the Commander is going to win this fight head-on!”

Timber chuckled as he grabbed his bat with both hands. “You really should have quit when you had the chance, girly.” Faster than you would expect someone of that size to move, he rushed forward and brought his bat crashing down on Valerie!

Neala took a deep breath, and prayed. Elise discretely shut off her microphone and started mumbling under her breath. At Mina's building, Sinclair anxiously watched the fight from her laptop, one hand on her phone with emergency number on speed dial, while on the side of the ring, Bones quietly prepared to treat a serious head concussion.

… But instead of the hard crack or the familiar meaty thump everyone was expecting, Timber only got the dull thwack of his bat hitting the canvas.

“What a dodge, ladies and gentlemen!” Silver crowed. “I didn't think it was possible to even _do_ that until today!”

“I did!” Elise added cheerfully.

Timber scowled, noticed a flash of purple out of the corner of his eye, and made another swing.

“He swings! He misses!” Silver cried. “He swings again! He misses again! Seems like the Commander may not be the minor annoyance the Junkyard Dogs though she'd be!”

“STOP CHEERING ON THE ENEMY!” Rex yelled.

Silver cringed. “Sorry. Timber's nothing but determined to get what he wants, however, and he takes another swing! And another! And another!”

“Look at them go!” Elise laughed. “This is _hilarious—_ it's like watching someone try to fight a human-sized, purple glowing mosquito, and _lose_!”

“Raagh!” Timber roared as he brought his bat crashing down again, only to have it noisily thump on the canvas—yet another miss. “STAY STILL!” He yelled as thundered after Valerie, happily dodging and dancing away and around him.

The spectators laughed and hooted, the Dogs grew uneasy.

“Timber! What is _wrong_ with you?!” Rex yelled.

Timber gritted his teeth. “I'LL”--Swing! Miss--”GET THIS LITTLE RUNT”--SMASH! Miss.--”IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!”

Finally, Valerie seemed to slow down just enough for Timber to know that he was aiming at her, not her general direction. He grinned and put his full force behind his last swing!

“TIMBERRR!”

His bat left a mighty imprint on the canvas along with making a sizable thump. Silence, confusion, and panic filled the audience as Timber stood there, confused.

Valerie slipped back to his front from under and between his legs, grabbed the sides of his jeans, pulled herself up, and took her knee right up to his crotch.

_Crack._

The entire audience winced as one. In the commentary box, both Silver and Elise found themselves at a loss for words.

Timber's bat quietly dropped to the floor, before it rolled off to the side. Timber himself followed soon after, Valerie quietly stepping away from the spot he was leaning towards.

 **THUD**!

Little clouds of dust went up around him. There was not a sound but the hum of the lights and the ventilation system.

Valerie stood beside her fallen opponent. She cupped her hands around her mouth, and crowed into the deathly silence.

“Timberrr...!”

The crowd exploded in whoops, cheers, and roars of disbelief.

“And the winner--” Silver started.

“NO!” Rex yelled. “Bring Bones in! Timber can't be down just like that!”

“And we now call in the Alley Cat's medic Bones in to assess Timber's condition, and see if it really is over.” Silver said.

“I've got a bag of ice for your crotch!” Bones cried as they were let into the arena.

Rex scowled. “Timber, you better not take the crotch ice!”

Timber took the crotch ice and whimpered pathetically as he placed it over his injured area.

“And Timber has taken the crotch ice, which I suppose means that the Commander wins this round!” Elise continued. “Dogs zero, Cats one!”

Valerie walked over to Timber. He groaned and tried to scoot backward. “Please, no more...” He whimpered.

“Dude, I was only going to ask if I could help.”

“I think we've got this covered, Commander, thank you.” Bones said as they and a handful of other Dogs dragged Timber out of the ring and back to his side to recover.

Valerie shrugged and walked back to her side to a Neala, disbelief, relief, and happiness all over her face..

“Well, if that guy was one of their strongest, I'd say we won't have any problems winning...” She said with a smile.


	58. Chapter 58

“The Alley Cats are off to a strong start, the Commander taking down one of Rex's top lieutenants without even sustaining a single hit!” Elise cried as Valerie walked out of the ring.

“But is it the beginnings of a winning streak or just beginner's luck?” Silver continued as Neala took her place. “The Junkyard Dogs' best are more than just giant powerhouses, with a vast array of fighting styles and skills that will definitely leave these spectators dazzled and impressed—if the Cats even make it that far in the tournament.”

Elise chuckled. “It may be bad form to say it, but I think it's a rather safe bet they will.”

“Let's find out! On this corner, not exactly the strongest nor one of the best brawlers the Junkyard Dogs have, but certainly one of the scrappiest and most determined:

“RUNT!”

The light show from earlier started all the same, but few cheered or clapped for Runt. None of her fellow gang members did so much as acknowledge her existence, getting and making for preemptive bathroom breaks, chatting amongst themselves, or idly picking their fingernails or checking their phones. Not that she really needed any support, as Runt appeared to be a cheering squad all by her lonesome.

While not tiny or sickly like her nickname might imply, Runt was nothing special on the outside, just of average build. On the inside, however, she had a nearly boundless amount of energy and enthusiasm, whooping, bouncing about, and throwing her arms in the air as she ran down the length of the platform, screaming and whistling praises for the Junkyard Dogs all the while.

Neala looked up at Rex with an incredulous look.

“Bottom to the top,” she replied coolly.

Neala shook her head as Runt entered the ring. She tripped on the ropes midway, tumbling onto the canvas in the most ungraceful way possible, before she made it even worse by getting tangled in the hooded sweatshirt she had worn to the fight.

There were annoyed murmurs in the crowd as Runt spent a good five seconds struggling just to get back up. Either through denial or the sheer depth of her self-confidence, she lost none of her enthusiasm as she stood up and stared Neala down…

… Or at least, tried very hard to, and failed just as much.

“Yeah, I know what you're thinking...” Runt started.

Neala gave her a look that said no, she really didn't think she did.

“You're thinking I'm just a weakling, the very bottom of the barrel, just cannon fodder to wear you down for the other guys,” Runt continued, completely ignoring Neala. “But you're wrong. 'Cause I'm a Junkyard Dog, and we are the strongest, meanest, and baddest gang in all the Alley!”

“Just fight already!” A spectator howled.

“Bring back the Commander!” Another yelled.

“I didn't pay for filler fights!” A third continued.

Neala raised her fists and made like she wanted to fight before a riot could start.

“Alright!” Runt cried. “Want to tussle? Let's tussle then!” She paused to take off her sweatshirt, in a manner she thought was dramatic but in fact just let everyone see that it was really a size much too large for her and too well worn out, to boot. The fact that it revealed her less than impressive to non-existent musculature didn't help.

“But I've got to warn you… I'm an expert at all sorts of crazy cool fighting moves and styles! Ones like this!”

Runt rushed Neala with a battle cry! She launched off the ground, and aimed a spinning kick at her torso!

Neala grabbed her leg, and with the momentum from her attack, calmly sent Runt spinning around her. There was a quiet whoosh in the air before Neala let go and Runt went flying, rattling the cage a good deal before she hit the canvas with a thump.

“Well, so much for all that hype...” Elise mumbled.

“She's trying again, though, you have to give her that.” Silver continued as Runt got back up, a little dazed, but still looking determined to fight.

“Okay!” Runt said. “So you're an expert too! But that's cool, that's cool… because I've also got _other_ secret moves like this!”

Runt charged again, ducking and weaving side to side in a zig-zag pattern she assumed was making her an unpredictable, hard to hit target, but really just made her an extremely predictable, _very_ easy to hit target, as evidenced by Neala literally holding out her fist and waiting for Runt to run into it.

Runt cried out and staggered back from the impact, hands clapped over her mouth. She spat dramatically in a way that may have looked like she was getting rid of blood and loosened teeth, but it just produced a disgusting glob of spit.

For the first time in the fight, Runt's bravado faltered.

“Oh, ew...” Elise shielded her eyes.

“Don't fret, folks! We didn't assign a clean-up crew for nothing.” Silver said.

Rex sighed, put her palm to her face, and sank into her seat. “Just beat her up already...” She mumbled.

“It'll be better for everyone,” Valerie agreed.

Runt came back to Neala with a look of renewed determination in her eyes. She raised her hands and made the “Come at me!” gesture, fire burning in her eyes.

Neala socked her in the chest with a straight jab.

Runt fell back, splayed out on the floor and unmoving.

“Medic!” Rex yelled. “And get her out of there even if she can still fight anyway!”

No one but Runt complained about that, but since she had a problem saying anything louder than a pained wheeze, it went unheeded. She stayed on the floor for the rest of the tournament, her old spot on the bleachers now reserved for Bones' first-aid kit when she was with the Dogs again.

“I almost feel bad for calling that a victory for the Alley Cats.” Elise said. “Almost.” She said as she added another number for her gang.

“That's 0 Dogs, 2 Cats, but this is just the beginning of the fight!” Silver continued. “Still plenty of time to turn this around!”

“Or perhaps just plenty of time to watch several dozen kids get their derrieres handed back to them in the most humiliating way possible.”

“That too.” Silver said too quietly for the microphone to pick up. “As soon as our clean-up gets done, we'll be bringing in the Junkyard Dog's third contender of the night, an aspiring elite who hasn't quite made it up there yet, but will stop at _nothing_ to rise up above the ranks and make himself one of the strongest fighters in the history of gangs everywhere:

“DEADRINGER!”

“He's certainly got the name down, I'll give him that much,” Elise said with a nod. “Let's just see if he lives up to it.”

Deadringer stepped into the arena, a great step up from Runt in terms of size, intimidation factor, and style. This time, the Junkyard Dogs cheered him on as he strolled down the platform with a smug grin on his face. He high-fived the guard at the gate before he stepped inside, then raised his fists in a boxing stance.

Across him, Neala did the same, a serious look now on her face.

Up above in the commentary box, Silver pressed a button on a console.

_Ding-ding!_

The fighters rushed each other.

_Crack!_ Thump.

Silver blinked, confused. Elise calmly reached over to his side and pressed that same button once more.

_Ding-ding!_

“Alright, go Leona!” Valerie cheered, the rest of the Alley Cats whooping along right with her.

Neala stared at Deadringer, now laid out flat on the floor like a piece of deadwood, his arms still roughly in the same position as he was just a second earlier. “Medic…?” She said.

A group of Junkyard Dogs quickly dragged him back to his side. Bones looked over her shoulder as she treated Runt, sighed, and got ready to treat a second unconscious patient with a possible mild-to-serious concussion.

Neala cast a worried glance at the two Dogs she'd knocked out, before she walked back to her side without a scratch or really, even a single bead of sweat.

“What a humiliating defeat series of defeats!” Elise hummed happily. “Rex must have not liked that.”

“To say the least.” Silver said. “But, again, night is still young, there are _plenty_ of ready and able Junkyard Dogs itching for a fight, and only two Alley Cats—with the Commander up next once more!” He had to pause as the crowds suddenly erupted in screaming and cheering. “And it seems like she's become rather popular in her short time here.”

“I'm not surprised. You might want to just sell a compilation of all of her fights, none of the others; no one really enjoys filler content—no offense to Leona.”

“That's if there's more than one fight.” Silver said as he wrote down exactly that. “And if this will be the Commander's second and last brawl, it will definitely be a good one, because up next, we have the Cutting Wind, the Demon Barber of Hangman's Alley, for whom even the glint of her weapon is enough to send her enemies running:

“MACKEREL!”

Elise sniggered. “Seriously?”

“Don't be fooled by the name; it's just her favourite fish for sushi, often enjoyed after she's done slicing and dicing her opponents.” Silver said gravely.

Elise just shut off her mic and stifled the rest of her chuckling.

Mack's entrance was without the light show of earlier, but she didn't need it. She calmly glided down to the ring with an air of dangerous serenity, her lip curled into a small smile as she eyed Valerie like a chef would the offerings laid out on the ice.

Valerie grew uneasy, more so when the guard handed her a switchblade before they opened the gate. Neala saw and panicked, while Valerie just flicked around her wrist and practiced having the weight of it in her palm before she stepped in, the door locked behind her once more.

Mack knelt down and pulled out a butterfly knife from the inside of her shoe. She started opening and shutting it at a rapid pace, the lights gleaming brilliantly off the clean, polished silver of her blade. Finally, she thrust it forward like a rapier, her form as clean and confident as it would any proper duelist.

Elise whistled, impressed.

“Fun fact, ladies and gentlemen: most fighters chose this exact moment to surrender.” Silver added.

Valerie frowned as she crouched low. “You know, bringing a knife to a street fight is a real dangerous proposition; you better know how to use it, 'cause there's no backing out.”

Mackerel chuckled. “En garde, Commander.”

The air horn blared once more, and the two fighters started circling each other.

“I'd like me to take this opportunity to tell both our combatants to please refrain from _intentionally_ stabbing the other to death; we _really_ don't want to have to deal with a corpse or have to rush anyone to the hospital this early in the night.” Silver said just before the two clashed.

If this were a fight to kill, it would have been over in seconds with someone's blade left in the other. As it stood, it was a brutal, furious, and above all _swift_ duel, Mack and Valerie using every ounce of agility, finesse, and skill they had in them. Those that wanted to see blood cheered as the first cuts and slices landed on the other, on their free arms when they blocked the other's blade or directed their blows elsewhere; the rest of the crowd alternated between howling for the return of the _real_ fighting, or complaining that they could barely see what was going on, just the flashes and the glints of their blades as they clashed and sliced at each other.

Above in the commentary box, Elise and Silver tried to makes heads or tails about what it was they were supposed to be describing, failed, and silently settled back to watch the clash.

Valerie jumped back, bleeding from a fresh gash on her cheek among other cuts.

Mackerel smoothly slid back, also injured, but not as severely.

The two opponents took a moment to look at each other and asses the damage they had done.

Valerie nodded. “ _Touch_ _é_ _._ ”

“ _Merci._ ” Mackerel replied.

The two of them clashed again. This time, the knives and the deft hand movements were abandoned in favour of throwing strikes, kicks, and sweeps into the mix. Free hands were now used to smash, pull, and strike as much as block and feint; several times, Mack staggered back as Valerie deftly tangled her long legs with hers, just as many, Valerie yelped as she just missed getting slashed on the face again from Mackerel's superior reach.

Blood drops started staining the floor, curly strands of brown hair gently floating down alongside ribbons and shredded bits of fabric.

Then, with the intense purple glow of her hair reflecting off their blades, Valerie smashed the hilt of her knife into Mackerel's head. She was stunned for a second, but a second was all Valerie needed to crouch again and make a rush around her at almost inhuman speed, her blade moving so fast all most anyone could see was the flash of the lights reflecting off of it.

Valerie skittered off a good distance away, and with a flourish, swept her leg across the floor as she spun to face Mackerel again.

Mackerel stiffened, hurriedly looking at her body for any signs of new injury or wounds, before she found none. She threw her head back and laughed. “Hah! You call that an attack?”

Mackerel's form-fitting pants promptly fell down, leaving her in the pair of cycling shorts she wore underneath. She started sweating as she realized there were several obvious tears scattered all over its surface, _just_ deep enough to cut the spandex but not her skin.

Mack's knife fell to the floor as her hands shot up. “ _Touch_ _é_.” She whispered.

“ _Merci._ ” Valerie replied as she calmly sheathed her blade. “Do you surrender?”

Mack nodded. _“Oui—_ _m_ _erci_ _be coup,_ Commander _.”_

“Junkyard Dogs don't surrender!” Rex roared as she shot out of her seat.

“Alley Cats do~” Valerie chirped.

“Then I suppose I am an Alley Cat now.” Mackerel said as she bent down and picked up her ruined pants.

“You can't do that!” Rex snapped. “There's only one way out of the Junkyard Dogs!”

“And that is to fight my way out, yes?” Mack replied as she picked up her blade again. “I will happily do so, Rex, but I _must_ warn you: you _might_ want to be saving your strength for the _Commander_ instead,” she growled.

The crowd went berserk. The more confident or just reckless of the Junkyard Dogs booed her and roared to be let at her; the smarter among them and all the elites thought otherwise. Rex glared at Mackerel, but her back was already turned as she joined Valerie in the Alley Cat's dugout.

Rex gritted her teeth and sat back in her seat, her fingers digging into the handles.

“Well, that was an unexpected turn-out for this fight! Clashes worthy of their own events, brutal defeats, and now, defection from the ranks, all caught on camera and right here, _live_ at the Pit!” Silver said, nervously eying Rex out of the corner of his eye.

“I'll say!” Elise added. “It is _still_ a good night to be an Alley Cat and a _very_ bad night to be one of the Junkyard Dogs. And before you start on that spiel again, do you really think it matters that we've only just begun?”

Silver said nothing.

“Anyone got a spare jacket Mack can borrow?” Valerie said as she took her seat again. “Sorry about depantsing you on live stream, by the way.”

“It was nothing personal, Commander;” Mackerel said. “I would have done the same if I were capable of such a feat.”

“Excuse me! Future doctor coming through!” Bones said as they trotted on up with their first aid kit in tow. She looked at Mackerel, and frowned; she looked at Valerie, and her face fell in horror. “Bandages. Lots of bandages… antiseptic, too...” She mumbled to herself as she dug into her kit.

“It's just a lot of nicks, I'll be fine,” Valerie said.

“Correction: you'll be fine so long as you stay still.” Bones said as they started shaking a can of spray.

While Valerie was busy suffering and getting bandaged up, Mackerel took the opportunity to walk over to Neala.

“Leona? A word of advice: try to drag out your matches as much as possible to let the Commander recover; though I am certain she is dangerous and more than capable of handling any of us, it is not good to push the body too hard at once.”

Neala nodded. “Was already planning to. I'm just worried that that might lead to me getting knocked out, though.”

Mack laughed. “Your fears are misplaced, _une pote_. If you will pardon the term and enjoy the irony, most of your opponents will be pussies. No, who you really have to fear are my former fellows… but even then, they might become our allies soon.”

“Rex really not that popular with the others?”

Mackerel grimaced. “Rex is a tyrant and a bully, with incredibly poor taste in sushi, too; I won't miss being under her iron rule, and neither will most of them, if they though they could leave.” Mackerel spat. “Now, _aller mon pote_ , it is time for your fights.”

“Wish me luck.” Neala mumbled as she stood up.

Mack cast a wary glance at Rex simmering and stewing on her throne. “To be frank, Leona? I sincerely hope you will not need it.”


	59. Chapter 59

The next two fights dragged on as long as Neala could possibly make them. It was useful for her that the Junkyard Dogs and the crowd were more willing to believe that Runt and Deadringer had no self-defense skills in the first place, than the truth of her pulling her punches and intentionally failing to dodge and counter their hits.

Rex, however, wasn't fooled.

“I was wrong,” Elise said after the second bout finally ended. “Seems that the grunts actually _do_ have some bite in them. Still not enough to take down Leona, though~”

Silver nodded carefully. “And so the trend of Alley Cats victories continues. That was Steel and Wolfgang, who put up quite the valiant fight against Leona, but now the crowd is roaring and practically demanding that we start the next match up with the Commander and the Junkyard Dog's next elite! To the relief of those of you have drank a little too much during the past matches or are starting to feel sore in your seats, though, it's time for the half-time break!

“Feel free to use this time to use the facilities, get up and stretch, maybe grab some snacks if you haven't already.”

“Or switch allegiances—just throwing it out there.” Elise added.

Silver ignored that. “The event shall resume in ten minutes.”

Steel and Wolfgang were both dragged into the Alley Cats dugout for the sake of Bones' convenience. Nearby, Valerie was curled up on one end of the benches and fast asleep in spite of the noise and activity, Mackerel had been bandaged up, cleaned up, and borrowed a jacket to tie around her waist.

“I'll get her next time…” Steel wheezed as he was laid out on one of the other benches. “You can't beat me that easy...”

“I'm going to need a _lot_ more ice packs at this rate...” Bones muttered as they calmly laid a freezing cold one on Steel's stomach, shutting him up nicely.

Beside him, Wolfgang wisely remained silent as he waited for treatment.

Neala ignored them both as she sat down beside Mack. “Hey. Any advice you might want to offer Valerie before she's up again?”

Mackerel shook her head sadly. “I would if I could, but it appears Rex was wise enough to hide who she'll be sending to the slaughter next. The best of us are extremely dangerous in different ways; it's just wasted breath to warn the Commander about the tactics of someone she might not even be facing in the first place. Even then, there is no doubt she will figure it out herself in due time.”

Neala gazed over at the bleachers of the Junkyard Dogs, noting that the rust red outfits and accessories they wore were about the only thing that was undeniably similar with any of their elites. Then, she looked at Valerie, still asleep and looking as unworried and unfettered as could be.

“Where the body may become impenetrable, the mind always leaves an opening.” Mack said. “Relax, Leona; I shall continue guarding our leader.”

Neala sighed and picked up her book, trying to read it while time ticked past ever so slowly.

* * *

“And we're back!” Silver said as he returned to his chair. “To those of you just getting back to your seats, you might want to hurry it up, while those still in line for refreshments or relief—well, it's up to you to juggle how much you want to miss watching this next match the first time around!

“And believe you me, it is going to be one you _won't_ want to miss, as the Commander's next opponent is none other than the Junkyard Dog's Tornado of Terror, the fighter so skilled and terrifying many foes have surrendered after seeing just a small sampling of her moves:

“TATSUMAKI!”

Tatsumaki stepped up to the platform to much fanfare and delight from her comrades. She was bald, and dressed up in a rust-red outfit similar to a monk's robes, but unlike Buddhist tradition, it just served to make her look all the more menacing, especially with the few choice, ferocious tattoos on the back of her neck and head. She had a pair of nunchucks in one hand, kept clasped and closed in one hand for now, but from the smile on her face, she was just itching to use them.

Valerie woke up from her nap, took one look at her, and yawned. “A delivery of one faux-Oriental butt for Rex, coming right up,” she said as Bones handed her a bottle of Fresa Fiesta. She took a swig, and a shiver ran ran down her body, violently shaking the top of her head right down to the very tip of her toes. Jolted straight back to full alertness, she confidently sauntered off to the gate.

Valerie held out her hand to the guard. They didn't do anything but keep standing there. “What? No nunchuks for me?” She asked.

“Rex's orders,” they grunted in reply.

Valerie shrugged. “Well alright, I'll just manage, I guess!” She said as she stepped into the ring, the door locking behind her.

“Trying to give your side a fighting chance this time, eh, Silver?” Elise asked.

“No comment!” Silver replied. “But what I _will_ comment on is that this fight will definitely be one to remember! I'd explain why, but it's better if Tatsumaki just shows you instead.”

The air horn blared, and the crowd went wild once more.

Tatsumaki smiled, and started twirling the nunchucks by her side.

Valerie chuckled. “Oh, so you can spin nunchucks around, is that what your 'skill' is?”

Tatsumaki sped up dramatically, spinning the rods by their chain until they were almost a blur. She grinned as she started whipping her weapon through the air, changing hands; lashing it behind her back, grabbing the other side and whipping it right back in front without it ever touch her; raising it into the air and spinning it above her head, the lights gleaming beautifully off the polished handles, among other tricks.

Then, without warning, she lunged at Valerie, one of the rods coming crashing right down on her!

Valerie grabbed it with one hand, and jerked the rest of the weapon right out of Tatsumaki's. Stunned, she could only watch as Valerie began to spin around the nunchucks with even greater skill, deftly whirling it about in front of her and switching hands without the rods ever stopping their motion or even slowing down, before casually turning herself around and around as she stepped ever closer to Tatsumaki, the nunchucks still being whipped all about her body with every step.

And all this while she had a calm, almost bored expression on her face.

Tatsumaki started stepping back, watching Valerie with a mix of awe and pure, unbridled fear. Sweat started pouring down her face as she found her back to the corner, nowhere to run, and Valerie only coming ever closer.

Valerie lunged!

Tatsumaki closed her eyes and raised her arms to block.

The nunchucks' chain rattled as one of the rods swung loosely in the air, just a few inches away from actually striking Tatsumaki.

She carefully opened her eyes and found Valerie standing before her, holding her weapon out. She raised her arms into the air from her block, and slowly bowed down before her. _“Sensei!”_ She cried.

“Join me, misguided one.” Valerie said.

“ _Hai, sensei.”_ Tatsumaki replied, getting back up to her feet and obediently shuffling behind Valerie.

Some of the crowd cheered and clapped from the demonstration, the rest were more than a little miffed, teased with the promise of a brutal beat down that never came.

Elise laughed. “You were right, Silver—that _was_ impressive! The Commander didn't even have to land a single hit on her opponent she _still_ won _and_ earned herself a new member, making the total 7 Cats, 0 Dogs! You know, I have to wonder if your side will have any members left at this rate.”

“Even with the defections, the Junkyard Dogs are still growing strong!” Silver replied. “Just _look_ at those fighters still ready to face the Commander and Leona!”

Elise peered over their table. What she found was a number of the grunts sweating, fidgeting, and seriously reconsidering their life choices, while a good number of the elites were either strategizing amongst themselves or warily eying the Alley Cats' dugout and Rex on her throne.

“Point them out for me?” Elise asked as she leaned back to her seat. “Because I don't see them.”

Silver hung his head from the resulting snickers, knowing laughs, and Rex's glare. “I could, but it'd be better for me to start the next two rounds, with the Alley Cats' Leona up against—wait, sorry, just received a text right from Rex herself!” He paused to read it. “Change of program, folks! It would seem that Leona will no longer be facing any of the regular members for the rest of the tournament, and like the Commander, will be facing our elites.”

He paused. “… But unlike the Commander, she will be facing them with two consecutive rounds, back-to-back, the next one starting _immediately_ after the other, to be clear.”

Elise frowned. “Starting to get scared of losing, are we?” She asked testily.

“… No comment.”

Some of the crowd took badly to the news, jeering at Rex and calling her out, but she paid them no heed—there were even more that were happy that they were finally going to see a “fair” fight that'd last more than a minute or two.

In the Alley Cats dugout, Mackerel shook her head. “Rex is getting worried. This is _very_ bad, Commander.”

“Be wary of any more traps or changes she will make—Rex will stop at nothing to see you fall, _sensei_.” Tatsumaki added.

“I got that,” Valerie replied. “Now excuse me while I change it to something more fair...” She said as she got up from her bench.

“Please don't, Commander,” Bone said. “Rex will only find some way to alter the deal again—she's like Darth Vader.”

“I can handle it, Valerie.” Neala said as she coaxed her back down to the bench. “You just focus on _your_ fights and keeping enough spoons for Rex.”

Valerie reluctantly sat back down and sighed. _“_ _Fine._ Good luck in there.”

Neala smiled. “Hey, I've seen you deal with their strongest, I'd say I won't have any problems winning...”

“MAKE OUT AFTER YOU LOSE, WILL YOU?!” Rex yelled. “We came here to watch you get creamed, not suck face!”

Neala blushed while Valerie scowled at Rex. “Hey, for your information, she's just my best friend, you dumbhole, and you're the ones that are going to get creamed, not us!” Valerie yelled back.

Neala walked back into the ring before the crowd started a riot and more importantly, Valerie noticed the sudden awkwardness. Too miffed at Rex, Valerie never did, and just spent the start of that match glaring at her from her bench.

Mackerel and Tatsumaki exchanged looks, before turning to Bones. “Yeah, it's bad like that.” They replied, before all three of them settled back in their seats and waited for the next match-up.

“… And the new roster has been finalized, folks!” Silver said as he looked up from his phone. “I didn't think I'd be introducing them this early in the night, but ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Junkyard Dogs' Duo of Destruction, the Kings of Chaos, and Best Bros Forever:

“SMASH and CRASH—better known as the BASH BROTHERS!”

The light show started once more on the Junkyard Dog's side, a massive teenager climbing up to the stage and pulling his similarly built friend up with him. The two of them seemed unbelievably psyched to be up on stage, looking at each other with wide-eyed disbelief, before they chest bumped and ran down to the ring, hooting and howling with their hands thrown up in the Horns. And unlike Runt, the Junkyard Dogs were more than happy to cheer the brothers on, howling, hooting, and woofing at the top of their lungs.

“Some fun facts, folks! The Bash Brothers are _not_ actually related to each other, but many comment that they may as well have be!” Silver said as he partially read of prompter. “They are 'Best Bros for Life,' inseparable since they first met over a decade ago, and have done pretty much everything together since, 'except going to the bathroom, because that would be gross.'

“They have an impeccable fight record, solo, tag-team, or duo, soundly defeating all opponents, scaring them into a surrender, or winning by both referee and crowd's vote, so you can be certain that Leona's got a serious series of fights on her hands!”

“Nothing she can't handle, I assure you...” Elise said, though she was warily eying the brothers. “In light of the special circumstances behind their fight, we now bring you ringside with the Bash Brothers.”

“Smash! Crash! So good to be interviewing you two again!” The reporter said. “Anything to say before you two chalk up another victory to your belts?”

“Just two things,” Crash said as the reporter handed him their microphone. “I just want all of you out there watching this tonight, here in the Pit our wherever you are on your phones and your computers, to know that one: I LOVE MY BRO SMASH! He's the best bro any one could ever ask for, and I wouldn't trade him for anyone else!” He cried as he looped one massive arm around his friend's shoulders. “And two--”

“I LOVE MY BRO CRASH, TOO!” Smash cried after Crash held the mic up to him. “And ditto everything he said about me!” He continued, looping his own massive arm around his friend's shoulders.

Neala looked on with a mix of admiration and envy as the two of them proceeded to hug each other, before pulling away and doing another chest bump.

“Every bromance should aspire to be as strong,” Silver said with a nod. “Kindly direct your eyes back to the Pit or unmute those feeds, folks, because it's time for the Bash Brothers to break some faces! Or face, as the case may be!”

The guard on the Dog's side threw open the gate. Smash and Crash clapped hands and shook, before Smash climbed into the ring.

“Take her down, bro!” Crash cried as the cage was locked.

“I will, bro!” Smash replied, throwing up the horns into the air before he faced Neala, and got into a wrestling ready position.

Across her, Neala raised her fists.

The air horn sounded, and crowd went berserk.

“Yeah! Go N'ala! Break _his_ face!” Valerie cheered over the roar of the spectators. She stopped as soon as she noticed the odd, ominous silence from everyone else in the dugout. “What? Are they really that good…?”

Valerie got her answer as Smash rushed into Neala, picked her up in a fireman's carry, before he slammed her head first into the canvas.

The Bash Brothers fought like professional wrestlers without the script, the safety rules, or the need to make sure that they didn't too seriously injure or possibly kill their opponents. They kept their foes locked and helpless in the grips of their powerful arms while they pounded away at every vulnerable part they could reach; they picked up and threw them around as much as they possibly could; and every single strike was made with the intent to hurt, and force their enemies into defeat from surrender or because they physically couldn't fight back any longer.

Those that wanted to see two fighters come to blows and blood, breaking noses, bruising skin, and relentlessly beating each other down without rules to hold them back got what they wanted; they launched out of their seats to cheer, roar, and taunt, delighting as the Pit started to get stained with blood and sweat.

Up in the commentary box, Silver and Elise found themselves shutting off their mics and looking away from the brawl. In the dugout, the Alley Cats did all they could to keep Valerie from rushing into the cage. Up in her throne, Rex calmly watched with a smile on her face.

The fight dragged on and on, Smash and Neala steadily looking worse and worse with each passing minute. It seemed like neither could get the upper hand, that the fight would drag on until one of them finally passed out from exhaustion, before Smash forced Neala into a corner and raised his fists just a few seconds too late.

In desperation, she grabbed the sides of his head, and headbutted him three times, the last ending with a brutal crack.

Smash staggered back, before he suddenly collapsed to the floor, unmoving, twin trickles of blood running down his nose.

Neala slumped against the post behind her, the cage the only thing keeping her up on two legs through the pain.

Crash screamed and threw himself against the cage wall. _“BRO!”_ He screamed as he rattled the bars.

Valerie finally broke free of Mackerel and Tatsumaki, leaving them staggering back or on the floor as she launched herself onto the cage. _“N'ALA!”_ She screamed as she did the same.

Neala groaned and pushed herself off the post, standing on two shaky, unsteady legs, but standing.

Smash stayed on the floor, still breathing, but it didn't take much to know that something was _terribly_ wrong.

“LET HIM IN!” Rex roared, and the unlucky guard on the Dogs side was knocked away as Crash all but ripped open the door from its hinges. He rushed straight past Neala, completely ignoring her as he knelt down beside Smash.

“Bro...? Bro! Bro, wake up bro! BRO!” He made to grab Smash.

“NO!” Bones screeched as they looped around to the Dogs' side, Tatsumaki hauling her first aid kit behind them. “DON'T MOVE HIM!”

Crash stopped, his hands hovering over the unconscious Smash; the look of happiness and confidence on his face was gone, replaced with the lost, haunted look of someone who was helpless to do anything but watch.

“Stop the fight!” Bones yelled. “We need to get him to the ER! Stat!”

“NO!” Rex boomed. “CRASH! FINISH HER!”

Bones and Tatsumaki stopped short of the ring as Crash slowly stood up, his whole body shaking.

Valerie watched in horror as he turned to Neala, let out a roar of anguish, and charged her.


	60. Chapter 60

Neala dove to the side, grunting in pain as she landed on her injured side. Crash smashed into the cage, tears blurring his vision.

“CRASH!” Bones screamed. “LISTEN TO ME! We need to get Smash into the ER, stat! He could _die_ from this!”

“The sooner you beat her up the sooner he gets help!” Rex screamed.

C rash spun around, saw Neala trying to push herself back up, and charged. He roared and dove on top of her, crushing her under his weight. He raised his fist, about to start pounding away at Neala's unprotected face, before two hands grabbed it and stopped him.

Crash looked up, right into Valerie's eyes.

“What's more important, Crash?” She whispered. “Rex, or your bro?”

Crash  sucked in a choked breath .

Rex roared, yelling at the top of her lungs, but Crash had stopped listening to her.

“What do you owe Rex compared to what you owe Smash?” Mackerel growled as she joined Valerie's side, her knife bared and ready. “What…?”

“We can get him out of here if you stop being such a _baka_!” Tatsumaki said as she hauled Bones' first aid kit into the ring.

“Clock's ticking, Crash!” Bones cried as they entered after her. “Another few seconds here and it might just be too late for him!”

“What 's it gonna be, Crash?” Valerie asked. “Do you want to win, or do you want your bro to live to see tomorrow?”

Crash let out a choked sob. He pushed himself off Neala and rushed back to Smash, Bones already diagnosing his injuries and Tatsumaki pulling out equipment as they called for them. “There's a stretcher underneath the bench!” Bones yelled.

Mack and Valerie rushed off to get it. “We're going to need more dudes!” Crash boomed as he joined them. “Lots of big dudes!”

Timber threw his bag of crotch ice away, and limped into the ring. Several more of the bulkier Junkyard Dogs got up with him, with the stronger of the Alley Cats on the other side doing the same.

Smash started stir, groaning and opening his eyes as he was picked up. “Ugh! Bro…? What happened…?” He mumbled.

“It's gonna be okay, bro!” Crash said as he and several others laid him down carefully on the stretcher. “We're gonna be okay, we're gonna be okay...”

“Wha…?”

“Shut up bro, just shut up.” Crash said softly. “I'll tell you later, okay? Just shut up for now.”

Silver and Elise looked at the scene in the ring, then at the audience, in confusion about what was happening or complaining about the disruption. “Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to advise the you to--” Silver started.

“Don't just stand there and watch! Move, move, move! Help them carry Smash off or get out of the way!” Elise shouted into her mike. “The Cat's pickup truck better have a clear way out of her, or I _swear_ there will be consequences!”

Smash was hauled out of the Pit in short order, bruised, bleeding, and confused, but conscious and still breathing. Those that were left behind all sighed with relief as the procession of boys carrying him off all got a clear, straight path right out to the parking lot.

Valerie looked at Neala—also bruised, bleeding, and looking not much better than Smash—and cringed. Neala smiled weakly, before Tatsumaki and Valerie helped her down while Bones came up with her kit.

“What do you think you're doing?” Rex growled. “Did I say the fight was over?”

Valerie turned and scowled. “You _can't_ be serious.”

“Does it _look_ like I'm joking?” Rex snapped back. “Two fights with my Top Dogs, back to back, that was the rule!”

Valerie was about to protest, before she shook her head and stood up. “You know what, Rex? You want a so badly, you'll get a fight! Soon as Neala gets out of here, I'm taking on ALL of your Junkyard Dogs, back-to-back, no breaks, you included!”

Rex grinned. “That's more like it...” She turned her head to the Dogs. “Well? Which one of you are going first?”

Silence. The Alley Cats helped Neala out of the ring, hauling Bones' first aid kit after them.

Rex scowled. “Do I have to drag your butts into the ring myself?”

One of the Junkyard Dog's elites stood up. “Screw this and screw you, Rex! I'm not going up against her!” She cried before she got up off her seat and started walking down the aisle.

“I do, too!” Another elite cried as he joined. “You want to see the Commander creamed so badly? You do it yourself!”

“Junkyard Dogs drool, Alley Cats rule!” Runt cried as she shot up from the floor, before letting out a triumphant yowl on her way to the Alley Cat's dugout.

“Junkyard Dogs drool, Alley Cats rule!” A second grunt repeated as they followed after her.

“Junkyard Dogs drool, Alley Cats rule!” Said another, and another, and another, the chant growing louder and louder as every single member of the Junkyard Dogs got up and left, crossing the arena and squeezing themselves in, around, and on top of the Alley Cats now far too small dugout.

Timber, Crash, and all the other Dogs that had hauled Smash out of the Pit came back in the middle of the riot, stopped to look at each other, and proceeded to head off up with the Alley Cats without a word.

“It appears we've got a mutiny on our hands!” Elise purred. “Seems the now former Junkyard Dogs have finally wisened up and decided to save themselves the time and humiliation by the Commander's hands!”

“'Junkyard Dogs drool, Alley Cats rule!' is the word on everyone's lips, mine included! I'd also like to take this opportunity to say: I've _always_ hated you Rex, I'm glad you finally got what was coming to you!

“Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, with pretty much the entirety of the Junkyard Dogs sans Rex defecting to the Alley Cats, I think it's safe to say it's time for the match-up you've all been waiting for, the Battle of the Best of the Best, Gang Leader against Gang Leader, the fight that will decide the fate of Hangman's Alley—maybe even all of Middleburg!:

THE COMMANDER of the ALLEY CATS!

VS

REX of the JUNKYARD DOGS!

Some of the crowd screamed themselves hoarse in excitement. Vendors started hawking as much of their wares as possible to sell out before the tournament was over far sooner than they expected it would; spectators rushed and hurried to the bathrooms; while the rest settled back, and waited for the night's penultimate match to begin.

The Alley Cats roared and cheered, their voices booming and almost deafening as they took up every inch of their dugout and the space around it. Valerie looked back and grinned at them all, before she turned back to Rex and grinned at her.

On the Junkyard Dogs' side, only silence from the bleachers, empty and littered with trash. Rex still appeared calm as she climbed down from her throne, but no one could ignore the dangerous aura around her.

“We now bring you ring-side for our pre-fight interview with the Commander!” Elise said.

The Alley Cats' new reporter and cameraman duo quickly came over. “So, Commander, any words for Rex before your big clash?”

Valerie smiled. “Tell you what, Re—woah!” She stopped as Timber suddenly carried her on top of his shoulders, enough of a boost to look Rex in the face from across the ring. She laughed as he handed her the mic. “As I was saying:

“Tell you what, Rex: I'll make this easy on you. The two of us can duke it out in the Pit, one-on-one, or you can promise that you'll leave you'll leave us Alley Cats, and everyone else in Hangman's Alley alone for the rest of your life. Heck, let's just make it the entire _world_ ”

Rex gritted her teeth. They reporters prepared to go over to her side, but from the glare she shot them as she entered the ring, they decided it might be better to just skip the interview.

Timber carried Valerie off his shoulders and back into the Pit. Several more Alley Cats fixed up her hair, wiped off the sweat off her brow, and gave her a much needed drink of Fresa Fiesta.

Neala let out a weak cheer as she recovered on the benches. “Hand her her butt back for me, Commander!” She cried.

“Will do, Leona!” Valerie replied.

Valerie and Rex raised their hands, and the air horn buzzed one last time.

Valerie charged, her hair tips glowing the brightest purple they'd ever been.

Rex pulled out the gun hidden in her jeans, and waited for Valerie to run right into the barrel at pointblank range.

Spectators screamed, ran, or hit the deck. The Alley Cats watched in horror and fear as they could do nothing but watch and take cover. Neala sat frozen in her seat. Far away from the Pit, an urgent phone call was made.

“Here's what's gonna happen, Commander,” Rex said calmly. “You're going to break up the Alley Cats, you're going to give me back all of the Dogs you've stolen from me, and then you and your little friends can go leave Hangman's Alley and _never_ return.

“We clear?”

Valerie's hands flew out, twisting Rex' hand upward and pointing the barrel to herself. Rex reflexively pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A ceiling light shut off for good as Valerie wrenched the gun out of  Rex' hands, slid back, and pointed it at her  instead .

“Here's what's _actually_ going to happen, Rex,” Valerie replied just as calmly. “You're going to dissolve the Junkyard Dogs, you're going to stop causing trouble here or anywhere else in the world, and then me, my friends, my family, and all of my Cats' and _their_ friends and family are free to go without ever having to worry about teenaged psychopaths like you.

“Are we clear?”

Rex glared at her with a ferocity that would have killed a lesser person. Then, she raised her hands, knelt down onto the floor, and put her hands behind her head.

Valerie calmly ejected the clip, and sent it sailing off into the empty expanse of the Junkyard Dog's empty bleachers, well behind the cage. “Hey, Rex? You might want to make sure you take the safety is  _on_ next time; really decreases the chances of you accidentally shooting yourself, just saying.” 

She tossed the gun aside, turned around, and sauntered back to the cheering and roaring Alley Cats.

Rex lunged and grabbed Valerie's ankles, pulling her down to the floor. The Alley Cats rushed for the cage, but the entrance was only so big and they all ended up squeezing their arms and legs through while getting the rest of their bodies stuck. Valerie tried to fight back but Rex quickly pinned her back down with her knee, before she crushed her with the rest of her weight.

Crash ungracefully landed in the ring just in time to watch Rex grab Valerie's neck and twist it painfully to one side.

“ _Back off_ , or it's _bye-bye Commander...”_ Rex growled

Crash and the other Alley Cats reluctantly stood down, every single eye glaring at Rex.

Suddenly, sirens blared through the air.

From the upper floors of the gym, the lookouts started yelling.  “It's the cops!  Run! ”

“What?!” Rex cried.

P andemonium spread throughout the arena as those that hadn't fled earlier evacuated now, rushing down the bleachers and seats, to the outside and back to their cars before they roared off, teens clinging desperately to their roofs, hanging half out of the back trunks,  or begging for them to stop and come back for them.

Rex was distracted for only a few seconds, but that was all the time Valerie needed to chomp down on her arm and make her cry out in pain. Crash dashed forward and ripped Rex off of Valerie's back, roaring as he dove and slammed her into the canvas.

“TIMBERRR!” Timber yelled before he jumped on top of Crash, completely pinning Rex down on the canvas with their collective weight. More Dogs and Cats joined the growing pile, Runt triumphantly sitting on down on the very top of it, while Tatsumaki and Mack were quickly beside them, their weapons bared, prepared to fight off Rex if she could somehow manage to escape.

Timber groaned. “ Agh , I think I hurt my goolies again...”

“I've got another bag of ice for your crotch!” Bones cried as they came into the ring. After a quick realization and a brief moment of hesitation, they were forced to hold the bag right up to Timber's injury.

And so it was that the police discovered a giant dog pile of teenaged gang bangers in a caged boxing ring, one of them holding a bag of ice to one of their crotches, while a tiny girl stood by, and her badly bruised and beaten friend watched awkwardly from the sidelines.

* * *

All of them ended up in a nearby hospital, either for injuries or by choice. The waiting room was filled to the brim with thuggish looking teenagers, some of them wearing something dominantly rust red, the rest in their tank tops, undershirts, or just shirtless as they waited to be treated or picked up their parents and guardians.

For lack of space, rooms were four patients each, instead of two, and as it just so happened, Neala, Valerie, Smash, and Rex all got the same one, cheap curtains about the only privacy between them.

“Bro!” Smash cried as Crash walked in.

“Bro!” Crash replied as he rushed his friend, carefully giving him a hug.

“It's gonna be okay, bro, we're gonna be okay...” Smash said as he patted Crash on the back while he cried tears of joy.

“Aww...” Valerie and Neala went at the sight of it across the room.

“Ugh...” Rex went, mostly because she was right next to them.

“You see that, Rex?” Valerie said. “That's the force you shouldn't have ever messed with: friendship.”

Rex rolled her eyes.

Mina walked up to the door cradling two boxes of Fresa Fiesta. “Knock-knock! Coming in with a delivery!”

Valerie smiled at the sight, before she became confused as Mina went to _Rex'_ side of the room.

Mina put down the boxes on the foldout bedside table, before she turned to Rex, a sad look on her face.

“What?” Rex asked playfully. “No hello kiss on the cheek?”

Mina took a deep breath, and sighed. “What happened to you, Honey?”

“I grew up and learned how the world _really_ works, that's what.” Rex replied coolly.

Mina paused, before she slowly shook her head. “I need to drop you like a bad habit, Rex. You're just nothing but trouble.”

Valerie and Neala watched as Mina bent down and gave Rex a rather long, poignant kiss on the lips.

“Mmm…” Rex hummed as Mina pulled. “But you still can't resist me, can you?”

Mina picked one of the boxes and turned away. “Goodbye, Honey. I hope when we meet again, it'll be in better circumstances.” She said before she strode over to Neala and Valerie's side.

“Hey you two!” She said with a bit of her usual cheer. “I hope you two didn't get hurt too badly in that fight, because if I'm honest, you two look _awful._ ” She said as she set the box down on the table between them.

“Don't worry, the doctors said if I take it easy for a few months, I'll make a full recovery...” Neala said.

“… I'll live...” Valerie mumbled half-heartedly.

Mina nodded as she opened the box for them. “Well, that's good to hear! Look, I'd _love_ to stay, but Sinclair and I are still busy convincing the police that _some_ of the things at the Doghouse aren't illegal goods to be confiscated...”

“Right.” Valerie said. “Hey, could you tell her I said thanks for tipping off the cops to the fight? That was _way_ better than my contingency plan.”

“Oh, Sinclair didn't do that, actually.” Mina replied. “As a matter of fact, _none of us_ know—lucky they did when they did, though! Anyway, you two rest up and heal—you've _definitely_ earned it~!”

Mina gave them both kisses on their unbruised or uncut cheeks, and left.

Valerie smiled, until Mina walked away and she looked wistfully after her.

“What? Seriously, Commander? You never knew that me and Mina used to be together?” Rex chuckled. “Well, at least that's _one_ thing I'm sure you won't get your filthy paws on.”

Valerie glared at her, before there was yet another visitor to their room.

“Hey.” Tiana said as she strolled in and marched up to Neala's bed, tossing Valerie her phone with a pair of earphones attached. “Crank it up to max volume and don't you dare unplug either of those buds, alright, pipsqueak? I need to talk with Neala, in private.”

Valerie rolled her eyes and obeyed, blasting her eardrums with heavy metal while Tiana threw the cheap curtains around them. After one last peek through the curtain to make sure Valerie was doing as she was told, she turned back to Neala and started talking.

“Look, just… don't say anything for a while, okay? I suck at this, and I don't want you forcing me to make up a new script as I go along, okay?”

Neala nodded.

Tiana sucked in a breath, and sighed. “I realized it is _really_ messed up that it took you _almost_ getting killed for me to realize that I've been angry at you for really, _really_ dumb reasons all these years.

“I still hate Valerie, and I don't think I ever will stop hating her, especially as long as she's friends with you and roping you into all of these crazy schemes, plus hypnotizing you with her freaky teenaged martial arts master psychic powers.

“I know you're still going to be friends with her anyway. And there's nothing I can say or do to stop you.

“Neither of us are going to get everything exactly how we want it. And if we both try to do that, none of us are going to get _anything_ that we want. So Neala…

Tiana stood up and offered her hand. “I want you to be my sister again. Even _if_ you're still friends with Valerie and doing things behind my back with her.” She paused. “And you're, you know...” She added quietly.

Neala smiled and took it. “I want you to be my sister again, too. Even if _you_ still won't me what it is you're doing behind my back with your friends.”

Tiana leaned in and carefully hugged her. “Don't rub it in.”

“Okay.”

Tiana pulled away. “So, that girl, Mina…” She asked quietly.

“She's Rex' ex. And things aren't exactly _over_ , over between them.”

Tiana  nodded, before she shot Neala a poignant look . “Whatever you do, please don't get her on the rebound.”

“I won't. I promise.”

A nurse popped into their room. “Ms. Harris? Ms. Kobayashi? Your parents are here and you both are slated for transfer to a different hospital, someone will be here shortly to discharge you both.”

Neala paled.

“Don't worry,” Tiana said. “Mama said she'll save the yelling until AFTER you've recovered. And for the record? Anything Valerie's mom knows about what happened, it wasn't from me.

“I _really_ wanted to tell her, but I didn't. Because I love you, sis.”

“I love you too, sis.”


	61. Chapter 61

_Present Day_

“Valerie, please tell me you're not going to work today.” Neala said.

Valerie winced. “Sorry N'ala, no can do...” She took a few steps away from her friends and tried to make a break for the main exit, but Neala grabbed her and pulled her back by the shoulder.

“Are you _serious?”_ Neala snapped. “You're running on like what, zero hours of any _actual_ sleep, less than two hours worth of short naps, sugar, caffeine, and Flaming-O's? You should be at home sleeping—we should be driving you home and getting you back to bed, too.”

“Call in sick today, Val,” Sinclair said. “You've got an unbroken streak of coming in since the day you started workin' there, can't you take a sick day once?”

Valerie weakly raised her hands. “I'll be fine, guys. Trust me, what they have me doing there? I can manage.”

“And just _what_ is it they're having you do in there, huh?” Neala snapped.

“Making fish sticks on sticks.” Valerie replied innocently. “I just pull them out of the boxes, pop them in the microwave, then dunk them in the fryer—however long they've been in there before they're served won't make a difference, trust me. I think some of the customers might even like 'em 'matured.'”

Neala and Sinclair shuddered, before their expressions turned serious once more. “No, really, Val,” Neala said as she put her hand on Valerie's other shoulder. “What is it that you're doing in there?”

Sinclair joined in the stare down, though Neala looming over Valerie was more than enough.

Valerie started to sweat.

“Hey! You three! Break it up!” One of the guards sweeping the halls cried.

Neala pulled away but kept one hand firmly on Valerie's shoulder. “Sorry, officer, just having a little disagreement between friends here.”

“Well would you please take it outside? Loitering's against the rules.”

“Will do, officer!” Sinclair said. “Come on girls, let's go.” She said as she moved to Valerie's side, Neala taking the other.

Sandwiched between her friends and with Neala keeping a firm grip on her, Valerie was helpless to do anything but march with them out to the parking lot on the side of the school. She thought of trying to bolt again, but out here in the parking lot, while getting escorted to tehir car, it'd probably only cause more trouble than it was worth.

Neala coaxed her in the passenger seat and strapped  in her seatbelt for her.

It was a bad sign. No one ever rode in the passenger seat unless they were in serious trouble or something had rendered the backseats unusable, a ritual Tiana had started and constantly maintained since a few days after they had gotten the car months ago.

S inclair and Neala took their usual seats as if nothing was wrong, before Neala started the car, turned on the AC, and calmly drove them out of the parking lot.

Valerie sweated in spite of the cool air blowing right at her. “Where are we going, guys…?”

“Taking you home,” Neala replied.

“Where you ought to be instead of that grease pit.” Sinclair continued.

“What?!” Valerie squirmed in her seat. “Guys, please--”

“Valerie?” Neala said calmly.

“… Yes…?”

“ _Shut up._ ”

Valerie meekly obeyed.

“It's been two months since you started working at the Fish Stick on a Stick—”

“It's only been 49 days, actually; two months is 56.”

“Fine, _49_ days since you started at the Fish Stick on a Stick, and in that time, you've _changed_. I know the reasons why you got the job...” Neala trailed off, struggling for words.

“Are less than ideal.” Sinclair offered.

“Are less than ideal… but that still doesn't change the fact that something happened to you since then. Something we all know is bad, worse than anything that's ever happened to you, to us, or anyone that we know, but you won't tell us and none of us can figure out what!”

Neala  suddenly  stopped at the side of the road as she had earlier that morning. “You know you can tell us anything, Valerie.”  She said, her voice softening. “ Whatever it is, it won't change how we feel about  you, I promise . We've got your back Valerie—we always will.”

Sinclair leaned in between them. “We're more than ready to pay you back for everythin' you done for us, but if only if you'll let us.”

Valerie looked at them both, and teared up. She sniffed, and wiped away her tears with her sleeve. “Okay, fine, I'll tell you—the truth of the matter is, what I've been doing at the Fish Stick on a Stick all this time is--”

_Crack._

Neala reeled back in pain as Valerie's palm struck her face. Stunned, Sinclair didn't notice that she was undoing her seat belt and throwing open the passenger side door until it was too late. “Valerie--!” Neala lunged after Valerie, but was pulled back by her seatbelt, her fingers just grazing on the hood of her jacket.

Neala struggled to undo her buckle while Sinclair watched as Valerie disappeared into one of the nearby alleys.

“Still got your trackers?” Sinclair asked as Neala crawled over the gear shift and out the door after her.

“We never uninstalled them!” Neala yelled back as she dashed after Valerie.

Neala came into the alley just in time to see Valerie on the other side of a chain link fence, a stack of cardboard boxes and other trash thrown over and stepped on in her wake.

“Valerie!” Neala yelled.

Valerie didn't look back and just kept on running.

Neala's phone pinged. She whipped it out of her pocket and saw an arrow pointing due west, numbers underneath it telling her Valerie was getting away. She ran out of the alley, dodging and weaving around pedestrians and other obstacles as she tore down the west street and as quickly she could.

Neala ducked into another alley as soon as the arrow spun around to it. It was empty except for all the trash laid around the dumpster and a stray cat hanging out on top of some abandoned milk cartons. She pulled out her phone and pinged the tracker again.

The arrow pointed into the dumpster, the numbers telling her Valerie was most definitely in there.

Neala put both hands to the lid, and pulled it open. She was greeted by a powerful stench of rotting garbage and the glow of a flamingo pink phone nestled amidst the junk and refuse. Its messaging app was open, with an unsent text:

_I cant :(_

* * *

After a thorough antibacterial wiping down, Sinclair dug through as much of Valerie's phone as she could, but as she had taught her so long ago, she was incredibly thorough with leaving no leads or evidence in it, too. “Kinda makes me regret teachin' her now...” She grumbled as she locked it and put it in her pocket for later.

“Let's just hope the others have the info we need.” Neala said as she pulled into a parking lot. The guard on duty was about to charge her, before they saw who they were and ticketed them for the entire day for free. Neala thanked them and parked at one of the spots specially reserved spots for management and other important persons.

The guards, several of the employees, and a few regulars nodded at them as they made their into the Cat's Cradle recreation center. Though normally, free tables were a rarity this soon after the schools let out, the much coveted corner table that was at the perfect distance from the snack bar, the TVs, and the stage was empty, a cheeky cat resting over a small sign that marked it “Reserved.”

On cue, one of the baristas clocked off for a short break, and several of the customers that had then been lounging around the couches or wasting time elsewhere all convened on that table alongside Neala and Sinclair.

The two of them sat down first, before all the former Alley Cats took their places at the table. “Well?” Neala asked quietly.

“I put out feelers,” Bones started. “There seems to be an _extremely_ poignant lack of anyone who knows anything about you-know-what, and those that seem to _do_ know something about it aren't telling.”

“Records come up clean, at least as much as I could find,” Timber continued. “So far as the law is concerned, they're a legitimate business that pays their taxes and doesn't cause any trouble. It's a little _too_ clean, if you ask me, though.”

“Their expansion is also quite curious.” Mackerel said. “Against common business sense, they tend to buy up properties in neighbourhoods whose values are going down, down, _down,_ and for whom gentrification and rehabilitation is a giant 'maybe.'

“To put it short, where there is trouble, they are there.”

“Someone come up to me earlier, actually,” Tatsumaki said. “They heard I was asking around for information. They politely told me to stop.”

“The Bash Brothers also sent word,” Bones said. “They asked the admin why they wouldn't think of putting up one in their base. The response was… 'not good' to quote them.”

Sinclair sighed. “So we're basically still in the same place we started, only we know more than ever that whatever the truth behind this is, it's very bad indeed.”

The others nodded grimly.

Neala smiled bitterly. “Thanks for the help, guys. I know it was a long shot to get all of this done on such short notice, but you all pulled through.”

“Think nothing of it, _mon amie_ ,” Mack replied. “For the Commander? Anything. We owe her much more than this.”

Someone from the snack bar called Tatsumaki back—her break was over. She cast an apologetic look at Neala and Sinclair as she stood up, bowed, and left. The others took it as a good time to leave—they hadn't left their own jobs and lives just like that, either.

Neala and Sinclair returned to the car, but instead of going back into the driver's seat, Neala joined Sinclair at the back. They spent a few moments sitting in silence, stewing over what they'd just learned.

“IT'S NOT FAIR!” Neala screamed. “It's just not _fair! First,_ there was Tia after she tried breaking into that abandoned drive-in, _then_ it's Valerie after that visit from Principal Larry!

“All these years, it's always been Valerie that's got everything together or getting that way, Valerie that's got the plan to make things right, Valerie that's the one at the head of every single thing we've ever done, standing strong, completely confident, never backing down, not even once--

“What can _change_ someone like that so quickly? And why can't _any of us_ do anything about it?!”

Sinclair didn't answer. Neala let her head hit the backrest, and started sobbing. When she finally ran out of tears, Sinclair handed over a packet of tissues. Neala started taking them out by the fistful, quickly building up a small pile of used tissues n the side.

“You want to freshen up a little, N'ala? Still got plenty of make-up leftover from this mornin',” Sinclair said, her own way of telling Neala she looked like hell.

“No thanks, Sinclair...” Neala said quietly as she tossed her last tissue into the pile.

They spent another few moments in silence, Neala leaning back and staring blankly at the roof of the car, Sinclair idly looking at her phone and scrolling through things of no real consequence.

“You think whatever Tia's got herself into is the same as Valerie's?” Neala asked.

“I sure hope not. Whatever is goin' on in there, I wouldn't wish that on anybody.”

Neala closed her eyes  and sighed . “We need a  plan.  _Another_ one. Because all the ones  so far just suck.  And w e've got to stop trying to be subtle or gentle about this—whatever this is,  it needs to stop  _now_ ,  whatever it takes _.._ .”

Sinclair frowned. “You're not suggestin' we tie Val to a chair and shine a light in her face till she cracks and spills the beans, are you?”

“What? No! _Tomorrow,_ after she gets some sleep tonight, though...”

Sinclair grew uneasy. “N'ala, not gonna lie here: y'all are startin' to scare me.”

“Not as much as Valerie is scaring me...” Neala mumbled sadly.

Sinclair look ed back at her phone, at a loss of what to do.  Then,  she sheepishly turned back to Neala . “… Hey, on the off-chance, have y'all talked about Tia 'bout this?”

“No, because it'd go over _really well_ if I did. Besides, she's made it clear whatever happened that day, she doesn't want to talk about it. Ever.”

“Here's to hoping Elise can give us some answers, then.” Sinclair said. “She gone and went and sneaked out of school earlier, gonna try to get herself hired at one of those Fish Sticks on a Stick, the one at the part of the mall everyone forgets about.”

Neala cringed . “I wish her luck, then...”

“She's probably gonna need it.” Sinclair said. She paused, then awkwardly reached over and placed her hand on Neala's back. “Hey N'ala? We'll figure out a way to get out of this just fine. We always do.” She gave a small smile.

Neala didn't smile back. “I hope so, Sinclair. I _really_ hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Arc. Yet another break before the start of the next arc, folks.


End file.
